Life, as we Know It
by MegalegU
Summary: Moving to Santa Barbara wasn't anything like Max Perwitz anticipated - adjusting to a new school sucks. When he discovers he not only has to deal with making new friends, but also to control an ability he never knew he had - things get a little difficult.
1. foreword

Life, as we know it

Foreword

(Voice of Max Perwitz, 15)

This place is crazy. Literally, I just saw a kid get carted out by the principal, flailing his arms like a windmill and yelling at some other kid, who apparently "started something".

It's so crowded in this place – SB High – that we get _six _minutes to go from class to class. There's four floors to this school, which is total insanity. My locker is on the third floor, and half of my classes are on the first floor. The cafeteria is on the fourth floor. There are only two lunch periods – sixth and ninth – so it's _madness _when you try and get up the stairs. A few days ago, I had a perfectly clean binder, un-dented and full of papers on my new classes. Now, it's decorated with foot prints and the front cover is ripped off. The back has an indent on the middle, and I'm pretty sure I lost my global sheet somewhere between Wednesday and Friday.

I didn't think my parents would ever ship us off – to Santa Barbra, of all places – because of "the economy". I _especially _didn't think they would let my crack head uncle and my crazy grandmother tag along with us like it was a special ed-class's field trip.

"Hey, Max!" one of the only normal guys I know at this high school, Neal Potts, calls me over. He's standing by the auditorium entrance with a tall blond girl, I think is his girlfriend. We're all pretty much stalling before the assembly starts.

"Hey!" I walk over slowly, carefully avoiding the small circle of Gothic guys that have formed while we wait for the auditorium doors to open.

"We had earth science homework, right?" he asks, stretching. His arm slides off the blond girls' shoulder, and she smiles at him.

"Um…" I try and remember my earth science teacher. A lot of the people I "know" – see in the hallway and know by first names only – are in biology, an advanced class, of sorts, for kids. You're average if you have earth science. "No." I finally say. Mr. Thompson, a short guy with balding hair and horn-rimmed glasses, is our teacher and never hands out homework.

"Phew." Neal exhales a sigh of relief. His girlfriend smiles wearily at me, and I can tell she wants me to leave, but is too polite to say so aloud.

"Uh…see you in there, alright man?" I gesture towards the auditorium. Hopefully I can score a seat in the very back, away from the teachers. For some reason…they all seem to creep me out.

Neal nods, and I duck into the auditorium, scanning the room for an empty seat. Finally I see one, next to a tall girl with straight blond hair.

"Hi." I say casually, sliding into the seat next to her.

She looks up from her cell phone, which she's been texting on in her lap, and smiles. "Hi."

For some reason, I couldn't stop looking at her, her pale skin, her round, blue eyes, and her long, curled blond hair. Her smile was straight and bright, bright white. I was glad she was occupied with texting – I didn't want her to look up and see me staring.

Moments after the lights dimmed, the girl quickly snapped shut her phone and slipped it in her pocket. I looked to my right, realizing Neal had shown up out of nowhere, dangling a bag of kettle chips between his thumb and forefinger. He extended the bag towards me and whispered, "You want?"

I shook my head, focusing on the stage in front of us.

A few times in between the assembly – which was warning us not to turn into cyber bullies – I saw the illuminated glow of the girl's phone, and once it flashed against her hand. Silver nail polish.

Once the doors opened and everyone crowded out, I watched as the blond girl raced up the carpeted aisle and bolt out the doors. I turned to Neal in confusion, who just shrugged.

Later, during sailing class, I saw her again. She walked in, handing papers to the teacher. She grinned at me, and I smiled back.

I know I should have seen it coming, but by that time I was so focused on her I couldn't think of anything else…until it was too late.


	2. Boy meets girl

Chapter 1

**October 1****st****, Friday, 3:01PM**

The bell finally rang at 3PM, and as soon as it did, hundreds of teenagers ran out of their classrooms, stomping down the hallways, leaving candy wrappers and empty water bottles in their wake.

Max Perwitz and his friend Neal Potts were the last ones to leave the hallway, throwing their backpacks over their shoulders and talking about the homework they both needed to catch up on.

"Man, I have four sheets out of the book for algebra and that's not counting global, French, or Photography." Neal complained, pulling his phone out of his pocket after running a hand through his short straight black hair. His blue eyes scanned over a text message he had received.

"Photography?" Max asked incredulously. "You actually have homework in that class?" when he tilted his head to the side, he felt his wavy brown hair fall in his blue eyes.

Neal cracked a smile. "Taking pictures."

The two had met the second week of school, when they were paired up for a lab in earth science. Max was the "new kid" to Santa Barbra High School, and Neal had been living in Santa Barbra since he was three years old. Both were terrible at earth science and completely messed up their Meteorology projects, but they had been friends ever since.

"Are you going to the game?" Max asked, after seeing a homecoming flyer posted up on the bulletin board. The game and dance was traditionally set for October 1st, always on a Friday, and Max was hoping to see the blond girl he had sat next to in the auditorium.

"Maybe." Neal shrugged. "Depends if Suzanne wants to go."

_Oh_. Max smiled. Suzanne was her name.

(Voice of Sarah Perwitz, 17)

We moved to Santa Barbra days after my grandmother had a heart attack.

My family was a normal one, right up until last summer, when my uncle came to the door with a duffel bag on his shoulder, and at that point I knew we would never be described as a "nice, suburban family" again.

Uncle George always was in some kind of trouble, and my mother always took pity on him, insisting on letting her make him dinner for weeks at a time, or chipping in hundreds of dollars for an apartment that he would stay in for a month, until the rent was needed and he had "mysteriously disappeared". That was just what my mother knew. What she didn't know – and what I was pretty sure only I knew – was that Uncle George had a serious drug problem. Last summer, when he taken over our couch for three days in a row, I walked in on him sniffing coke up his nose. He made me promise I'd never tell mother, and I haven't. I thought – stupid, naïve me – that it was, perhaps, a one-time deal, and he would stop "exploring the drug world". Yeah, no. I caught him again, two months later, with the same issue. So now, every time I see mom hand him a couple of bucks, I can't help thinking it's going to a terrible use.

It wasn't like my dad was _planning _on taking Uncle George with us. He, in fact, was completely fine with not even telling Uncle George we were leaving up until the Moving Van was parked in our driveway. Dad had been offered a raise in the law firm where he worked. The catch was that it was in Santa Barbra. I was completely fine with moving, and so was mom, but Max had a fit. He wouldn't talk to anyone for days, until dad dropped the fact that we would have an in-ground swimming pool, complete with a hot tub. _Then _he felt a bit better about moving.

It was three weeks before the big move, when Uncle George ruined everything. Ruined my thoughts of us ever being a perfect family again.

As usual, he came in the most unfashionable of ways. There was a Post-It tacked on the back door, with a few odd-colored stains, on which, scrawled in neon green Sharpie, was a cryptic message, **Hey Family! Hope you won't mind – I'm on the couch – Love, Uncle G**

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Uncle _G_?

Next thing I know, grandma's in the hospital, it's a week before the big moving day, and Uncle George has a reserved spot in the backseat of the van.

What makes it all the more irritating is that I already had my room picked out in the new house in Santa Barbra but when my Uncle George was suddenly on the road with us, the room was decidedly his – without my permission. So Uncle George, coke – head, got _my _room with the skylights and fluffy teal carpet, and I got the smallest room in the house that used to be a back porch.

What a life.

**Max**

_It's like that NASCAR race Uncle George dragged me to when I was ten, _Max mused of the tall sets of bleachers at the SB High Homecoming Football Game. The stands were packed with teenagers, running, laughing, yelling, eating nachos and cheese. Max scanned the rows, searching for Neal and Suzanne.

Once he found them, he managed to side-step his way around a shirtless group of eighteen year-olds, their stomachs bare and painted the school colors – red and green.

"Max!" Neal slapped him a high-five as he passed. "You made it."

Max smiled. "Yeah, my mom let me off dish duty…passed it to my sister for once."

"Nice." Neal smiled and leaned closer to his girlfriend, who seemed distracted by a game of brick on her iPhone.

"What's the score?" Max tried to get a view of the gigantic glowing red scoreboard, located west to the field. A tall group of varsity soccer players obstructed his vision.

"Us 0, JC, 5." Neal said in a monotone voice. Max could tell he cared about football, and SB was losing…badly.

"When's halftime?" Max tried – and failed – again to look at the scoreboard.

"Ten minutes." Suzanne offered, slipping her iPhone back in her pocket.

Neal groaned.

Max laughed. "Neal, calm down. We'll catch up. Right?" he looked to Suzanne, for guidance, but she offered none; too busy applying lip gloss to her already glossed lips.

"If we do…it'll be a miracle."

Max looked down at his sneakers, suddenly wishing he hadn't forgotten his cell phone at home. Neal was getting to be a bore.

Something about staring at the touchdowns – over, and over, and _over _it seemed they were made by JC High School – made him remember when he had still lived in New York City, and played touch football in the junior high's gymnasium. Kids from all ages had played, and the profits went to the Children's Hospital. Max vividly remembered getting his first kiss that night, by a girl named Linda that he had never saw again, but felt slightly grateful, considering he had been sweating like a pig when she'd grabbed his chin and put her lips on his.

"Max…? Max!" a rough shake of his shoulder brought him out of his daydream, and his eyes scuttled over the scene before him – the referee was getting in the face of SB High's football coach. Neither seemed to want to back down; both of their faces were tomato-red.

"Dude, you're missing it!" Neal slapped his shoulder again, smiling widely at the growing argument stretching before them: a few burly men from the team tried to break up the feud while Neal crowed in delight. _Apparently losing isn't on his mind any more…_Max mused to himself.

"Excuse me…I need to go to the restroom…" Suzanne excused herself, stepping off the bleachers and walking down the grassy field to the Blue Bowl porta-potties. Max winced, remembering "Freshman First Day"; an unlucky freshman – which thankfully had not been him – happened to be using one of the Blue Bowls' when the Varsity Lacrosse crew had tipped it over.

Thankfully, no one else had used the Blue Bowl before the poor freshman, but Max couldn't imagine the degrading feeling of having pee splashed over you and your clothes, even though it was your own pee.

"I'm not missing much." Max muttered, inaudible to Neal, who by now was so captivated by the fight, he was inching out of his seat to get a closer look.

By the time the game was over – finally, the fight was broken up by an exasperated member of the audience, a mother of five who ran screaming down the field like a mad woman – Max was relieved. The dance was next, and all of the SB High School students would walk up the path by the tennis courts and back into the school, to the gym. They won by two points, which, in Neal's opinion, was pretty good considering what score they started out at.

As they walked up the path, Suzanne talked most of the time, about how horrible the new gym teachers were and what lunch line someone had puked on today when she was buying her salad. The more she talked the more convinced Max became that Neal wasn't with her for her personality.

Just as he considered leaving and forgetting about the dance entirely, he caught a glimpse of familiar blond hair, pin-straight and shiny. He quickly dove forwards, nearly smacking into a tall, Chinese teenager in a lettermen jacket.

"Sorry," Max muttered before tapping the blond on her t-shirt-covered shoulder, hoping it was her and not a different blond girl that he just touched.

When she turned around, he smiled in relief. It _was _her.

"Hey!" she smiled, remembering him. "Did you like the game?" she wore an SB t-shirt, obviously a fan of the sport. Max wasn't sure how he felt about that. Normally guys were the ones supposed to be into sports.

"It was great." He said smoothly, hoping the lie on his face wasn't too obvious.

After they walked a moment in silence, Max cleared his throat and said, "So I never got your name."

She smiled. "It's Andrea. Andrea Portland."

"Andrea Portland…" Max mumbled under his breath, liking the way it sounded.

"And yours?" Andrea prompted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

"Max Perwitz."

"Neal Potts!" Neal cut in, grinning widely. He still grinned as Max shot him an irritated look. He stuck out his hand for Andrea to shake, but she looked down and then back up at him pointedly. He stuck it back in his pocket and shrugged at Max's expression. "What?" he asked defensively. "Everyone was saying _their _names."

Andrea forced a laugh.

"Okay…I'll go now." Neal ducked back, and pretty soon he was gone, disappearing in the crowd of teenagers inching forward towards the front doors of the school – waiting for the homecoming dance to start.

"That was mean…" Andrea wasn't smiling.

"It's just Neal." Max shrugged. "He understands."

**Max -** The dance finally started at eight thirty, the DJ playing "Misery" by Maroon 5 – not the best choice, Max scoffed. Hundreds of teenagers danced and milled about in the gymnasium, running around, some hugging, some kissing. Everyone seemed occupied with something…except for Neal, who's over by the bleachers on his cell phone. Max takes his time walking over to him, trying to decide what to say, instead of sounding like an idiot. Last time Neal was alone and he tried to make conversation with him, somehow the topic got on to Suzanne and what "base" they had gone to, which really grossed Max out.

_So, how was the game? _

_Did you see the new CSI?_

_What did we have for homework in algebra?_

"Hey man." Apparently Neal has already seen him coming. He looks up from the illuminated glow of his cell phone and shoots Max a smile. Suzanne is gone.

"Where's the girlfriend?" Max casually sidles up to Neal, standing next to him and propping his foot up on the bleachers.

"Uh, I was gonna tell you…" Neal looked sheepishly at Max. "She kind of just…got really pissed at me and told me we were through."

"Through?" Max was surprised. They'd just started dating last week.

"Yeah. We're broken up." Neal muttered.

_What do you say to a just-broken-up guy? "Sorry for your loss, man, but your girl was kind of a bitch and bulimic anyways. Plus, you only really cared about her because her boobs were huge. Wanna window-shop for another girl? There are tons of them here, really!" _

"Uh…sorry, man." Max clapped him on the shoulder gently.

Suddenly, Neal's face brightened as he realized the blond girl staring at the two. "Hey! This girl's gawking at you, Perwitz!"

Max's cheeks flushed scarlet. "No she's not…quit making stuff up."

Neal shook his head, as if disappointed. "So you're lying or you're really stupid. Either way, I feel sorry for you."

Max laughed. "Neal, you have no idea."


	3. Unstoppable

**Author's Note: There are only about three main characters; Max, Neal, and Andrea, but you'll be seeing Adam a lot more as the chapters go on **

Chapter 2

October 2nd, Saturday, 3:00AM

**Andrea -**

_It's official. _No one _is on facebook at three in the morning. _Andrea Portland rolled over on her white cotton sheets, turning her eyes away from the florescent glow of her iMac. She'd been sitting in bed surfing the internet, trying to get to sleep but every time she closed her eyes all she could think of was the guy Max Perwitz she had run into. He was friends with Neal Potts, one of the best-looking guys of the freshman class and eerily quiet. Like, never talked. The one class she had with him was lunch – and she doubted he had even bothered to notice yet. She sat by herself in the corner of the room, buried in one of many textbooks she kept on hand in her brown leather messenger back pack. Geometry (she was in advanced freshman math), American History (advanced global studies), biology (advanced science), Honors English (advanced literature) and French. How they all managed to fit inside the bag, let alone not break her shoulder in the process of carrying them from class to class amazed her. Sure, there was the obvious option of going back to her locker to deposit a book and get another, instead of carrying the load all at once, but for some reason the books brought a sense of comfort to her.

_Ping! _Her notifications signal popped up onto the screen and she smiled in surprise at Max's comment on her status:

_Hey, what are you doing up so late, Portland? _

Andrea looked at the door that led to her bed room, even though her father was fast asleep, and began typing a response:

_Max, what a surprise. Should I be coughing "hypocrite" at this point? _

She waited for a moment, expecting an instant response, but nothing popped up, which brought her to think more about Max. He was certainly attractive – short, wavy, chocolate-brown hair, pool-blue eyes, tanned skin, medium build. Nearly six foot. Practically a perfect combination. Though he had good looks, she wasn't sure if she liked him _that way._

She looked back down at her laptop screen and smiled. While she'd been thinking about Max, he had written back!

_If you feel you must then go right ahead._

Not exactly something you could comment back on. Andrea looked down at her silver-polished thumb nail and sighed.

_Ping!_

She looked down again.

_So I didn't see you dancing last night. Scared? _

Andrea stifled a laugh – for fear of being heard – as she typed back:

_No way! I can pop-and-lock with the best of them!_

As soon as she pressed the **comment **button she felt regret begin to sink in. Was that too nerdy? Too fake? Before her mother left, when she was ten years old, she had told Andrea that she worried too much. _Evidently I wasn't worried enough, _Andrea clenched one fist, trying to quell her anger. Linda had left the family when it was right at its weakest; Andrea's brother, Rob, had just been diagnosed with type two diabetes, and it had been pretty stressful on everyone. He was already struggling with his dyslexia and then that bomb shell had exploded. Not two weeks later, Linda was gone.

_Nice. I've heard my freestyle is pretty good._

Andrea laughed out loud and closed shut her laptop. It was about time she went to bed anyways; she was going to go with a group of friends at noon to see _Unstoppable_ at the movie theater.

11:55am **- Max**

"Max, you coming?" Neal held one hand on the steel-framed door that led to the cinema inside the mall. He wore simple ripped AE jeans, Vans, and a white polo shirt. Already inside the theater, waiting for their snacks, were his friends, Adam and Eva. Ironically, they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Yeah, yeah." Max tucked his Verizon phone back in his pocket and jogged over to where Neal stood. Last night, on a spur-of-the-moment decision, Neal had invited Max along to their movie outing, deciding on _Unstoppable _instead of _Easy A_, which had been playing in their theater for some time.

"Should be a good one," Neal commented airily as they walked by the concession stand and by the rows of arcade games lined up against the wall. Max eyed the wall that was the backdrop for the two doors that led to the men's and women's bathrooms, which was lined with posters as far back as the 90's. He saw a _Top Gun _one that made him smile.

"Hey man…you doing okay with the Suzanne thing?" Max whispered under his breath to Neal, lest Adam and Eva hear. From the short time he'd known Neal; he knew that his personal life wasn't one for discussion.

Neal shrugged from under his polo. "I guess." They had dated briefly, anyways.

Suddenly, a loud boom shook the theater, and something that sounded like golf balls rolling across the roof was heard.

"What the…?" Neal looked up at the ceiling in confusion.

Max raised his eyebrows at the noise, instantly recognizing it. "Hail?" he questioned.

"Looks like a good storm is heading our way!" Adam seemed to chirp as he walked over with Eva, holding her hand in his. His tall, gawky features obviously didn't shy Eva away; she seemed to be all over him.

"Seems that way, huh…" Max mumbled inaudibly; no one else seemed to hear. A skylight placed in the ceiling displayed rain drops falling in a steady stream down the glass.

_Boom! _Another clap of thunder sounded, and Eva squeezed Adam's hand.

Max, however, was captivated by the sight of the rain. _Drip, drip, drip, _went the water, sliding down the window until it fell out of view.

"_Max!_" a giggling voice rang out through the lobby, a screech of the door open, and then the sound of carpeted footfalls. Moments later, Andrea Portland stood in front of the group with a short, chubby redhead and a tall, athletic blond, by her side. "Hi!" she smiled widely, and Max almost forgot about the rain. Andrea was right in front of him, her straight blond hair in a casual bun, her eyes lined with black pencil. She wore a simple pair of Levi's and an orange jacket.

"Hey, Andrea." Neal grinned at her, and Max felt his heart beat faster. He could see it in his eyes; Neal was going to go for her, and she was going to right along with it. By the end of the month they would be together, he speculated.

"Hey, Neal." She responded back with a flirty smile. To her right, the chubby red head eyed Max, traveling from his mussed, brown hair, right down to his shoes. Max raised an eyebrow at her quizzically.

"So…what are you guys here to see?" Andrea looked at Neal when she asked the question.

"_Unstoppable_." Max offered, hoping to cut himself into the conversation, but it appeared pointless, as Andrea stepped even closer to Neal.

"So are we!" Andrea squealed. "We should all sit together."

The red head glanced at Max again who quickly turned his head, not wanting to look her in the eyes.

"Yeah, we should!" Eva piped up, and she gestured the blond and the red head follow her and Adam inside one of the cinema rooms. All who were left was Max, Andrea and Neal, but Neal didn't even acknowledge Max, instead, smiled at Andrea, and offered her his arm. She smiled back, and let her take it.

_This sucks._

Twenty minutes into the movie, Max could feel his leg go numb from trying _very _hard not to touch the red head's leg. She was sitting on his left, and had been "accidently" tapping her heel against his leg. The blonde was to his right, and on the blond's right were Andrea and Neal. Adam and Eva sat a row behind them, making out.

Finally, after what seemed like _hours, _the movie ended and Max quickly got out of his seat, pushing past younger boys with their mothers and teenagers texting. He pushed open the door to the men's room and stood in front of the rows of sinks. His head had begun to pound in the last half hour of the movie, and now it hurt _really _badly. Things were starting to move in his line of vision, and he knew that wasn't good.

**Neal **

"That was an awesome movie!" Neal exclaimed to Adam as they walked to the bathroom. The end scenes had been very suspenseful, not to mention that Andrea had flirted with him throughout the movie. Once the lights came on, though, Max was nowhere to be seen. Adam offered they check the bathroom, and Neal had gone along.

Adam smiled. "Are you sure it wasn't just because of Andrea?"

Neal willed himself not to blush as he pushed open the door to the bathroom and stepped inside. He looked behind himself, at Adam, as he explained, "It wasn't _just _because of…" but when Adam's eyes widened Neal looked back and saw Max in the corner of the room, knees up to his chest like a small child.

"Max? Are you okay?" Adam asked nervously.

Max shook his head slowly. "I just…got a really bad head ache. I felt dizzy."

Adam looked to Neal for a suggestion; clearly he didn't know how to handle the situation.

Neal shrugged. He'd had experience with fainting; when his mother was pregnant for Justin, she had fainted from exhaustion many times. Usually his father was the one to handle it.

"I can see if we can get you some Tylenol or something…" Neal hedged, remembering the Kinney Drugs he had passed on the way to the mall.

"I'll have my mom pick us up." Adam pulled out his cell phone and began dialing.

Max nodded gratefully.

Neal noticed the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, thinking, _how did I not notice that during the movie_? He felt guilty for paying all of his attention to Andrea.

"Hey, buddy…come on…" Neal gently helped Max up from off the floor, and Max put one arm on his shoulder slowly, needing the support. Neal helped him walk out of the bathroom, and by that point, the girls were in a huddle in front of the bathroom entrances.

"Oh my God is he okay?" the red head squealed. Neal noticed that she seemed _really _into Max during the movie but Max had tried to brush her off politely.

"We're going to have my mom pick us up…sorry guys." Adam offered his apologies to the girls. Before the movie had started they had planned to stroll the mall and shop around.

"It's okay." Andrea smiled in Neal's direction.

Neal hefted Max up a little tighter, smiling back. _Neal Potts, the hero! _

"Hey, you should call me when you guys get home, so I can…can be sure you're all okay." Andrea fished in her purse for a pen and grabbed Neal's free hand, scribbling her number down on his palm.

Neal tried to look casual as the pen slowly traced over his hand, but he couldn't hide the grin that spread over his face as passerby looked on with amusement. _Yeah, that's right; I'm getting a girl's number._

Neal smiled his thanks after she pocketed the pen, and he, Adam, Eva, and – somewhat – Max, waved goodbye and walked out into the down pouring rain.

"Crap!" Adam lifted up the hood of his gray hoodie.

Neal looked over at Max, who was pretty much out of it by now, and he winced as rain drops began to pelt his face, squinting up at the sky, as if confused by the rain.

"Hey!" Adam pointed at a white Sedan that was pulling into the lot. "That's my mom!" he looked back at Neal and helped him half-drag, half-walk Max to the car. Eva sprinted in front of them and took a seat in the back, tilting her head at Adam to join her. Neal helped Max into the front seat, explained the situation to Adam's mother, and then joined Adam and Eva in the back.

**Max**

He wasn't sure what was going on; everything was fading in and out. All he could concentrate on was the rain, which was pounding around them in the car. His face felt burning hot even though he could still feel the rain drops on his skin. The one thing he actually heard was that Neal had suggested they turn on 93Q. Adam's mother insisted on Y94FM, and then Adam pointed out, "Hey guys…Max isn't looking too good!"

Adam's mother leaned closer to inspect, but all Max could think was,

_Make the rain stop…make it stop… _

Eva quickly dialed a number on her cell phone and Neal tried desperately to get Max's attention; shaking his shoulder and nudging him. Slowly but surely, the rain around them began to subside, until that was left was a light sprinkle. With that one fact remembered in his mind, Max blacked out.


	4. Diagnosis

**Author's Note: Short Chapter, I know, but there will be more to come, I promise! **

"_Don't Panic" _

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _

Chapter 3

October 2nd, Saturday, 7:15PM

"Max! Oh my God, baby, are you okay?" Max's mother Kelly enveloped her nearly-unconscious son into a hug when he stumbled out of Adam's mother's Sedan. She'd pulled it in the driveway to Max's house; Eva had called beforehand and told Kelly of Max's condition. Evidently – from the way Kelly reacted to the news – this hadn't happened before. Neal stayed in the car, wrapped up in informing all of his friends of what was going on through facebook, and Eva got out of the car to explain the story from beginning to end. Adam crawled into the front seat, rolled down the window, and offered feedback on some parts of the story.

"I'm f-f-f-fine..." Max couldn't form words; he was so out of it.

"I'd suggest hospitalization at this point." Adam's mother whispered in Kelly's ear, trying not to startle the other teens. "He hasn't been looking too good."

Kelly nodded stiffly. She didn't want to take her son to a hospital, but if need be…

After a brief overview from Eva on what had happened at the movie theater, Adam's mother gestured Eva follow her back into the car, and then they drove away.

Sarah, Max's sister, came running out the back door of the house, concerned. "Is he okay?" she asked worriedly, running a hand through her strawberry-blond hair. She'd left it down today, instead of putting it up in a bun like she usually did, and since the urgent call from Adam's mother, she had been playing it with it nonstop. Traditionally, brothers and sisters were _supposed _to practically hate each other, always arguing over the remote and scarfing the last cookie from the jar, but Sarah and Max were different; a lot closer.

"No…he's not." Kelly looked back at their small town house and then sighed. "Will you run in and grab the keys? I'm taking him to the hospital."

Sarah's mouth formed a shocked _O _of surprise, but nodded reluctantly and took off for the kitchen, where the keys were hung up on a rack.

"Everything's going to be okay…" Kelly murmured to her son, rubbing his back in smooth, slow circles, not sure who she was trying to reassure.

_Three hours later… _

"I can't believe this…" Kelly grumped, pulling her son along out of the hospital's doors, as she vented to Sarah. The doctor had released Max with a prescription for extra-strength Tylenol, saying there was nothing more he could do because Max wasn't even running a fever.

"He'll be fine." Sarah insisted, but there was a slight catch to her voice.

**Andrea – **

After switching off her _Bones _season three DVD, Andrea suddenly remembered to call Neal and ask if he had heard anything about Max. Though her crush-feelings had instantly left from Max to Neal, she still wanted to make sure if he was okay. It made her feel slightly guilty that she had flirted with Neal in front of Max, even though it was obvious from Max's actions that he liked Andrea.

"Hey!" Neal's voice was cheerful when he picked up, after three rings.

"Hey." Andrea smiled. He sounded happy to hear from her. "Did you happen to hear anything about Max?"

"No…" Neal's voice had an edge to it. "Why?"

Andrea felt slightly irritated by his tone. "What do you mean _why_? Max was practically dying at the theater!"

"I've seen people faint before, Andrea, and I'm pretty sure he's alright." Neal kept the biting remark to himself: _why don't you just admit you like him, already? _

"Well can you check on him or something? I just feel bad about what happened…" her voice held sympathy for Max, and Neal could feel his anger subside. Maybe Andrea really liked _him _and not Max, maybe she was just trying to be friendly.

"Okay, I will. Call you right back, okay?" Neal asked in the lightest tone he could muster. It took a lot for him to be so nice to a girl, especially one that just a few days ago, had been eying up Max instead of him. As he hung up with Andrea, he reminded himself to take it slow with the girl; he'd just broken up with Suzanne, and maybe jumping to the next girl wouldn't be the greatest idea for him.

**Reviews would be great **


	5. Little Miracles

Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Finally! Past all of the boring stuff! Here we go…Even shorter chapter than last time, but longer 1 to come!**

October 3rd, Sunday, 7:45AM

_Whoa, _Max thought as he rolled over in his twin bed and glanced at the alarm clock, _it is _way _too early to be up. _There was no sign of sun light streaming through the blinds, either.

Yesterday had been a blur. One moment he was watching Denzel Washington and Chris Pine duke it out with an unstoppable train on the big screen and the next he was in an emergency room, getting told to follow the flashlight with his eyes. The next few hours were a collection of hurried moments, and the only significant thing he could remember was swallowing pain pills and collapsing into bed. However….right now he felt…_great_.

He stretched one arm out, testing it. He felt his forehead – no more sweat. His mouth wasn't dry anymore.

_What…?_

He quietly got out of his bed and walked over to his Toshiba laptop, which was _ping_ing with notifications.

(IM) – **NeAlguyy95: **Hey man, just checking in on ya! Andrea asked about you – you should text her

(IM) – **JustMe53: **Neal its Adam. Just making sure everything's all right

(Facebook – wall posts) Adam- "Maxamillion! Get some sleep, watch the Die Hard movies – call me "

"Get some boat loads of medicine in ya; you'll be good as new!"

_What is going _on? Max rubbed a hand through his hair slowly. He didn't feel bad or anything.

He pulled on a pair of American Eagle jeans and a red t-shirt, stepping into a pair of Vans and walking clumsily down the stairs to the kitchen. The booth where his parents usually held court over the kitchen was empty, and the key rack only had Max's set on it. Apparently everyone had left for work. He pulled a blueberry muffin out of the basket, which had been resting on the countertop. Peeling back the cellophane wrapper, he looked down at the various notes stuck to the wall above the steel sink.

_Max – five bucks in the sugar bowl. Get yourself something decent – Love, Dad _

_Hey, I left Psych season three on the coffee table. Give it a chance and watch it – Sarah _

_I hope you're doing better, Maxie. I have your Aunt Lucy checking in on you at three! Please answer the door for her – Mom _

_Uh…Max, I took five bucks from the sugar bowl. I'll pay it back. – Uncle G_

Max resisted the urge to tear down "Uncle G's" note. He and Sarah both had silently petitioned to get their Uncle George to move out, but Kelly had been adamant on letting him stay "just a few more days".

Translation: _he's never getting off his feet and probably will live in the same house with us for another three years, still stealing our "secret" money from the sugar bowl. _

Ah…whatever. Max opened the door to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. After he drank two glasses in a row, he walked out the back door to the shed where he kept his mountain bike.

Normally he never woke up this early, much less rode his mountain bike around the neighborhood, but this morning he felt…different. Unexplainable. He coasted down the driveway and then turned to the left, up by the small deli store and a newly renovated McDonalds. Fortunately his iTouch was in his pocket – how random, how that had just shown up – and he was able to listen to the new Kid Cudi album as he pedaled down the road. For some reason he felt a sensational jolt of adrenaline, for no particular reason. He looked overhead at the sky, at the darkening clouds, and then frowned. He hadn't noticed that the forecast called for rain. In fact…hadn't it rained last night? He remembered something about the rain falling and Adam's mother telling Kelly about his fainting episodes, both at the movie theaters and in the car on the ride home.

_Crash! _His bike swerved into a telephone pole and as the front wheel connected with the wood, Max was jolted off the seat, and sent flying onto the grass. He rolled twice before collapsing into a heap.

Ugh. He grabbed his forehead and winced, feeling that same head ache from yesterday begin to work its way back. Around him, wind started to pick up, slowly at first, and then faster…faster…Max could see branches on the tree shaking, and a few red-orange leaves fell, beginning their descent towards the ground. Then he looked down at his hand and realized it was curled into a fist.

_Huh_? He slowly uncurled it, fingers stretching outwards.

The wind abruptly stopped.

_Well this is odd…_Max could feel his palms moisten with sweat. Nervously, he curled his hand into a fist again. The wind slowly began to pick up speed.

Open fist. No wind. Closed fist. Wind.

Open, close, open, close.

_Whoa. _Max's confused expression slowly morphed into a wide grin.

_This is so awesome_.

**To be continued….:) **


	6. Brand New Day

"_While no one is expected to leap tall buildings in a single bound, our aspiring heroes will be tested on their courage, integrity, self-sacrifice, compassion, and resourcefulness – the stuff of all true super heroes" _

_Stan Lee _

Chapter 5

December 8th, Wednesday, 11:34AM

"Max, are you coming?" Neal Potts, the fourteen year old freshman that was known mostly for his good looks at SB High, called to his friend, Max Perwitz. He held open the door for the gymnasium for him, wincing slightly as he did so. Just the other day he had had an intense work-out with his father's trainer and his arm muscles ached.

"Yeah, man." Max turned away from the four back-door entrances that led to SB – Santa Barbra – high school and back to his friend. Lately he'd been feeling like he had wanted to share a secret with his new friend but it always seemed like the bad time. For instance, when he had walked in on Neal making out with his new girlfriend Andrea Portland, his crush, which Neal had known about and had gone the douche-route and dated her anyways. Like the time they had been running the track in gym and Max had just about been to blurt it out when one of the Ultimate Frisbee team members nailed Neal in the nose. Or like the time on thanksgiving dinner, when Neal had joined Max's family for the gathering, and they were playing Call of Duty before dessert, and his Uncle George had leaned over and whispered in Neal's ear about "cutting him a deal".

The fact was, Max had a big secret. And he had no one to tell.

Just two months ago, after a weird, one-day illness, Max had discovered something irrevocably amazing about himself: he had a power. An actual, honest-to-god, legitimate power, like on his old favorite show, _Heroes, _or that failed Sci-Fi network attempt, _Jake 2.0 _or that stupid show his sister Sarah had been obsessed with for two weeks, _The Gates. _Or, better yet, like _all _of the Marvel movies.

He could control the weather. Literally, with a simple hand gesture, a gust of wind could be gone in an instant. A thought could bring about thunder and lightning in seconds.

It had been pretty amazing, but then reality had sunk in and he had realized…he couldn't tell anyone.

"Are we playing tennis today?" Neal broke Max's train of thought. "The other day Mr. Blackburn told us we would."

"Yeah, I don't know." Max shook his head in irritation. He'd been trying to think of a reasonable way to word the explanation, "I've been so distant lately because, hey, guess what? I can control the freaking weather!"

Then again, maybe he could always tell Adam Monahan, who he had been hanging out with a lot more recently. In fact, just the other day they had made plans to go play laser tag at the mall with a few members of the indoor track team.

"I'm actually pretty good in tennis," Neal continued, oblivious to Max's obvious irritation, "softball sometimes, but I'm just not great with pitching. Probably my only weakness."

He continued on that way as they walked to the locker room, talking about the methods of football and "table tennis" – which Max insisted was called ping-pong; his grandfather used the term and it didn't sound right– until finally Max interrupted him.

"Hey, um, I saw this great TV show the other day…_Criminal Minds_." He said this in a quick, rushed sentence, knowing the show was one of Neal's favorites. Whenever his sister Sarah had it on, Max would sit beside her on the couch and watch as well. It was even better than CSI, which took a lot to admit.

"That show's awesome." Neal nodded his approval. "Did you see the other days' episode? The rerun on ion?"

Max shrugged. Yesterday had been a blur of homework, studying, and then sneaking out of the house at midnight to go to the park. Ever since he was six years old the park at night time had scared him, but now it seemed like nothing in comparison to what he could do now. He had pedaled out there on his bicycle and lay on a park bench for what seemed like hours, curling his hand into a fist, stretched out towards the sky. Even then, two months after he discovered what he could do, he marveled at it.

It was a gift, and he had learned to accept it.

Day 2 hadn't been easy, to say the least. After all, what is a teenager supposed to do when they discover that they have a freaky ability where they can control the weather with just a simple thought?

It was "sandwich night" – as it had been dubbed back in the late 90's when Max was just a toddler, and Tuesday nights were much too busy for a home-cooked meal – and the usual suspects were sitting at the table: Uncle George, Sarah, Sarah's friends Rose and Hillary (apparently newcomers to the tradition) and Max's parents. Dinner hadn't started yet, but Uncle George already clutched a can of Miller Lite.

_Typical, _Max scoffed as he kicked off his Nike sneakers and shuffled his way to the fridge. He scanned the contents, located a can of Arnold Palmer and popped open the tab.

"Hey, Max, don't be rude; say hello." Sarah was always the one to introduce friends and family. She gestured to Rose and Hillary, both plump girls with black hair that seemed to be into the Goth scene. "That's Max," she told the two girls, "this is Rose," she pointed to the one wearing a short lacy dress and red socks, "this is Hillary." She pointed to the one wearing liquid eyeliner and had a silver nose piercing.

"Hey." Max offered a limp wave, one hand holding the can of Arnold Palmer. For some reason, his stomach was churning and the sight of the lunch meat piled up on the granite counter only made it worse. The only thing that was on his mind was what had happened just yesterday.

"Max honey we're going to have sandwiches soon!" Kelly, his mother, reminded in her usual sing-song manner. She worked as a teacher's assistant for a local pre-school and had adopted expressions like, "potty" and "quick, quick, like a bunny!"

"Yeah, I'm probably just going to take a nap…" Max tried to make his voice sound weak, hoping he would come off as sick. "I'm tired and not really hungry."

"Are you sure?" Henry, his father, asked. He was a college psychology professor, and for the most part, looked every bit like one; round, steel-framed glasses perched on his nose, professional suits and ties, and had a brown leather briefcase in which he carried all of his papers.

"Uh…yeah." Max tried to avoid contact with his father's eyes; he had watched enough episodes of _Lie to Me _to know that looking someone in the eyes wouldn't convey you were telling the truth; in fact it was a myth.

"Well, there's Ramen in the cupboard if you want anything later on!" Kelly said airily, waving her manicured fingers in the air. She turned back to Sarah's friends, telling a story of some sale that had been going on at JC Penny's.

Max nodded and made his way up the stairs to his bed room, carefully closing the door shut behind him.

Once he scanned his DVD collection, picking _Pineapple Express_, he jumped on his small twin bed and put his hands behind his short, wavy brown hair. It wasn't like he was focusing on the movie; he was still thinking.

He couldn't even find an explanation for himself; this power…this ability…this _thing _that was happening to him. Just yesterday he had discovered he could control weather. How was this logical? Was this like in _Sky High _when both the parents had super powers and they all saved the day? Did his parents know about his ability? Did his sister have an ability too? Would an agency come after him and demand he work for them, like in that movie _Next _with that guy who could see the future? What was going to happen to him? He pretty much knew what had to be done. Or rather, what _didn't _have to be done: he couldn't tell anyone, he would have to live out this new double life in secrecy, like in _Jumper _when Hayden Christian ran away from home and tested out his new abilities, answering the question: why? The big question for Max: why was he making so many movie references?

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Day 3: back to school.

_Take a deep breath, you will be fine, _Max assured himself as he walked through the front entrance to SB High. Just last week all that ran through his mind was what tests to study for and which class he could get away with not doing homework in.

Now, however, the question he couldn't get out of his mind was, _why? _Of course he couldn't very well answer that question at school. Milling through the hallways were teenagers, iPod ear buds stuck in their ears, talking, laughing, slamming lockers shut with resounding _clangs._ Suddenly school seemed a lot less important than it had last week. Why should writing DBQ essays for global matter, when he could sit out on the quad and see what he could do with this new power? But then his conscience kicked in, reminding him that even though this new reality had sunk in, school still mattered immensely. After all, his parents expected him to do well in school; B minuses and A's were all that they would accept, and from Sarah, the stakes were even higher, as she was older.

He walked up to his locker slowly, dialing the combination with shaking fingers. Next to him, Roger Wood, the ever-present "nerd" was pulling large text books from his locker with difficulty.

_That used to be you, you know, _Max chided himself for not helping the kid sooner. Carefully, he swatted Roger's hand away from the top shelf of his open locker, and hefted the geometry text book with ease. He set it into Roger's open hand, and then walked away, momentarily forgetting his own text books.

He walked past the school store, where students were lined up for their early-morning caffeine fixes, and up to the informational window for the library. The steel-framed, open window was adjacent to the library's entrances, and held files that gave directions to reference books. Though he'd only been in school a month, he had developed a student-teacher friendship with the library help teacher, Mr. Keefe – or Casey Keefe, to teachers – who had helped Max adjust, mainly by "hooking him up" with some great mystery novels.

"Maxamillion!" Casey called as Max rounded the corner. "Wherefore art thou? Haven't seen you in a few days." His bright white smile was from ear-to-ear at the sight of his favorite student. He was tall, in his early thirties, a crisp white-collared shirt on, with a red skinny tie and dark Levi's jeans. On his feet were loafers and his black hair was mussed, as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Behind him the informational windows' walls were lined with posters, quoting Shakespeare and Mark Twain.

"Uh, you know, catching up on all those books you gave me." Max managed to come up with a reasonable-sounding lie. It was almost true – he had read a few chapters of _The Last Juror _on the bus that morning, a book Mr. Keefe had lent him.

"Ah." Mr. Keefe nodded. He looked critically at Max for a moment. "Hey, where's your friend Neal?"

Max had brought Neal over to the informational window many times, always talking to Mr. Keefe about books, new TV shows that were so stupid they were hilarious, and what teachers they couldn't stand. Mr. Keefe practically did nothing for his job, so he listened wholeheartedly to students, who were almost like his own kids in a way.

"Uh…he's…you know…around." Max shrugged. He was just as surprised as Mr. Keefe; Neal usually walked with Max around the school, sipping his usual early-morning bottle of Snapple. It probably had something to do with Andrea.

_Andrea…_Max sighed when he thought of her name. One minute he was mentally calculating ways to ask her out, and then the next Neal was "wooing" her at the theater by flinging pieces of popcorn in her blond hair. The _I saw her first _saying apparently didn't matter in this instance. The thing that confused him most was that Neal had encourage Max to "get with" Andrea at the dance, and then at the movies he had totally gone back on his advice.

"Max…" Mr. Keefe looked down at him, and Max felt like shrinking away. Something about that gaze made him want to run to his first bell class and never look back.

"Okay, so maybe there's…a girl trouble?" Max said this as if it were a question. Teachers, parents, and older family members always ate that stuff up; telling them, "Well, I met this girl…" and then they would be forever captivated.

Suddenly, the bell overhead rang loudly.

Mr. Keefe folded his arms across his chest. "We'll talk at lunch?" he asked authoritatively.

Max usually dropped by the window at sixth bell lunch, after he'd scarfed down half of the usual sucky school lunch – today's was supposed to be a casserole of some kind.

"Sure." He nodded and then walked away, heading for the stairs. Walking in front of him, coincidentally, was Neal, with his hand dangerously close to a familiar girls'. One with blond hair.

Max felt his stomach lurch at the sight. Before either of them could notice he was standing right there, he ducked into the men's bathroom.

_Earth Science… _

"Okay, _so…_we're going to be taking some notes today…we don't have much to do." Announced the substitute earth science teacher, a stocky bald man in his late fifties. He tossed packets carelessly to half-asleep students, propping their heads up with fists on their cheeks.

Behind him on the chalk board he had written his name in pink chalk with a flourish, Mr. Nami. Underneath that, he had written, _your substitute teacher for the next few days._

Max, who had a seat in the very back of the row, was tossed a packet, and he caught it effortlessly. Looking down at it, he felt like falling asleep. _Not much to do_? Nearly all the spaces were blank, which meant he would have to write nearly the whole bell.

"Hey, did you go to John's party?" Tom Steadman asked him. He sat adjacent to Max's desk, and usually spent the class time playing bejeweled on his blackberry. Not too smart of a guy, but at least he had decent taste in music, Max remembered Tom offering an ear bud for Max to listen to as they did class work.

"Uh…yeah, I did." Max heard the lie coming out of his mouth, and he was surprised. Normally he didn't go for that whole, I-got-wasted-last-night-and-then-went-school-and-made-an-ass-out-of-myself routine.

Tom's eyes widened. "So you saw it then?"

"Saw what?" Max raised an eyebrow. Was this about Andrea and Neal? Were they already a couple? Going out? Did they make out in front of everyone?

"Dude, _Pollack_!" Tom said in a low whisper, his eyes flicking from Max to the substitute teacher, who was trying desperately to capture the attention of the students. "He got _arrested_."

"_Pollack_?" Max asked in disbelief. Though he knew almost nothing about the parties Tom went to, he knew one thing: no one _ever _got caught, especially the number 1 of their class, Ken Pollack. He got straight A's without even trying. Whatever he got busted for, it would most certainly ruin his reputation.

"Yeah, _Pollack_." Tom said the last name again, as if he were a legend. "With weed. And about six other chicks, who everyone _says _were hookers-"

"Tom is it?" the substitute teacher asked, looking up from a plastic clip board in his hand. "Tom Steadman?"

"Yes…" Tom slowly swiveled in his chair to face the front of the room. He hadn't noticed that the sub had begun to take attendance, and his name had been being called twice now.

"Would you mind being quiet so I can get this attendance done?" he said: his voice had a snide manner to it.

Max hid his snicker at the red that was slowly spreading on Tom's face. He might text in class and keep up the façade that he was a party guy, but even after only a few weeks Max could tell he wasn't that kind of a guy; he was easily embarrassed.

"Max Perwitz?" the substitute scanned the rows of the class room, as if he could recognize the face just by reading the name once.

Max raised his hand, not bothering to say a word and be bait for one of the many jocks dressed in letterman's jackets that took up the far side of the room and drank nothing but cans of Red Bull.

The substitute returned to his clip board. "James Petrovich?"

A loud belch was heard from one of the middle rows. "Here."

"Ian Thompson?"

"Present!"

"_Homo_!" a kid clad in Abercrombie coughed. His large, blond friend next to him slapped him a high-five.

"Henry Tropallard?"

"Hi."

"Zack Underland?'

Nothing.

"Zack Underland?" the substitute asked again. He looked to a redhead that sat in the front row, doodling on the cover of his agenda.

"Was-_ted!_" a pale, tall jock holding his cell phone clutched in his palm shouted. He pointed to Zack, who was slumped over in his chair with a mop of greasy black hair covering his eyes, snoring quietly.

"Well, nonetheless, he is here." The substitute scrawled something down on his clip board. Once he was done with that he cleared his throat and said, "Okay, last but not least-"

A roar of laughter from the far side of the room.

"Patrick Zoo." Even the substitute couldn't help the smile spreading across his face at the last name. Even Max hand it to him, it _was _kind of funny. Then again, Patrick didn't have many friends for it. Patrick Zoo sat in the very front of the room, a mess of blond curls hanging over his grey eyes, a straight C minus kid, who was known for two things: his anime obsession and his last name.

"Uh…here." The voice of Patrick was timid, knowing what was to come after his name was announced to the class. Sure enough, Abercrombie and his blond friend started making monkey calls, scratching under their armpits and laughing. Patrick slid down in his seat slowly, avoiding eye contact with anything but the white board tacked up on the wall.

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" the substitute waved his hand, attempting to quiet down the monkey screeches and now the elephant noises half of the class was joining in on.

Tom looked like he was about to, when Max shot him a glare that simply conveyed, _if you join in on that crap, I will _personally _kick your ass later_. He felt he could at least pride himself on being above senseless bullying.

"Will you all shut up?" mumbled a girl sitting in front of Max, who only knew her by the fact that the fronts of her shirts always had kittens or puppies prominently displayed on them.

Patrick looked back at her, maybe to mouth a _thank-you_, but before he could open his mouth, a wadded-up piece of paper smacked him in the left cheek.

"Okay, who threw that?" the question was weak; Max could tell. The sub was slowly losing his grip on being in control of the classroom.

"I'll go to ISS…" the "guilty" voice of Abercrombie mumbled. He stood up, hefting his large SB High duffel bag on his shoulder, and then blew a kiss to a purple-haired girl popping a bubble with her gum. Smiling, he shut the door behind him as he walked in the direction of the In School Suspension room; teachers used the right to send students to the ISS room incessantly – it helped lighten the load of classroom burdens, and by now most students had gotten the gist of the routine.

"_Well_." The substitute smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Let's get to work."

_Global_

After ignoring Neal for the remainder of earth science (who sat in the very front of the room, on the right side of the room) – and filling out his note packet in record time – Max hefted up his school bag from the floor and walked up another two flights of stairs to get to his global class, taught by the one and only crazy drunk guy in his mid-forties hired at the school, Duncan Donavon. He wore crisp collared shirts with questionable patterned sweater vests over them, and pressed pants. The tip-offs – signs that everyone could see when he had drunk a little too much before teaching – were always obvious; when he walked across the room as he lectured, he stumbled in his drunken stupor. His slurred speech only added to the hilarity. Rumor had it he had a bottle of scotch stored underneath his desk for between bells when he could sneak a sip or two.

Walking over to his desk, Max looked at the walls surrounding them, slightly bewildered. Posters of Dave Matthews Band were hung up above Mr. Donavon's desk, and Jack Johnson was playing from the iTouch hooked up in the corner.

_Someone's been smoking some serious weed, _Max observed. He took his seat and pulled out his cell phone, holding it beneath the desk to check his messages.

Adam: Did U hear what's going around the school?

Max shrugged, even though Adam couldn't see it. He typed back a response without looking up from the screen.

Max: No…what is it now?

Adam: Heard in my marketing class that Roy Matherson is threatening to shoot everyone down. Something like columbine or that Virginia Tech massacre thing.

Max: He's legit?

Adam: Every1 says he is, but he skipped out on gym class, that's what Eva says, which means maybe what everyone is saying is true!

Max looked around the class room in confusion. He hadn't noticed it before, but everyone was talking about Roy now. Half whispers, half murmurs, everyone but Mr. Donavon, who had yet to show up, was saying something about him.

"…Heard he got baked last night and has no idea what he's doing..."

"Heard he's got a couple of Glocks stored in his coat!"

"He's gonna go crazy and kill everyone on the first floor!"

"…We're not safe; there's nowhere to run on the fourth floor…"

"HEY!" a loud, booming voice that belonged to none other than Mr. Donavon was heard as he half-walked, half-scuffed his feet into the class room, a thermos in his hand. Max tried not to laugh at the sight of him. "We've got some _fun _stuff to do today!"

"Yeah? Does any of that involve getting drunk on your way over here?" an anonymous voice asked from the back of the class room. No one bothered to turn around and see who it was; the question wasn't surprising.

"Actually Mr. Thompson, I only had _two _shots of vodka before I came over here!" Duncan retorted, thoroughly pleased with himself. Whether he was being serious or not it seemed to be put the anonymous voice in his place.

"Now that's reassuring." Max mumbled, more to himself than the class room.

"So anyways, let's get started!" Duncan rubbed his large hands together and looked at the twenty-two students in front of him.

They stared back blankly.

"Uh…does anyone know what we did last?" he asked

"We were doing absolutely nothing…watching a few movies, maybe _Superbad _or _The Hangover_." Offered the anonymous voice in the back, apparently back to his old self.

"Actually the second title would be more preferable, don't you think?"

_Apparently anonymous voice has a friend, _Max observed.

"Alright, that's it!" Donavon was about to pull out the thick sheets of "referrals" that he kept on his desk, reserved for moments like these, when the lights suddenly went out.

"What in the hell…?" Duncan looked up at the lights in confusion. He wasn't the only one; all of the students were craning their necks, searching for the problem.

One by one, all of the lights in the classrooms on the fourth floor flickered out.

"Holy crap…" anonymous voice whispered. "We really _are _screwed."


	7. Infamous Hero

"What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

(Voice of Max Perwitz)

Yeah. I know what you're thinking: did that guy _really _shoot everyone down on the fourth floor? Try and re-create a new columbine?

Uh, dude, if you haven't figured it out by now: no. I'm still here, that anonymous voice dude is still here, and drunk 'ol Donavon is still here.

Turns out Roy Matherson had a little too many "happy pills" and in his completely medicated haste, threatened to shoot everyone down. As it also turns out, he had no Glocks on him and no idea what he was doing when he stumbled onto the fourth floor, looking for targets. His only weapon? A bent paperclip. Yeah, I know.

Mr. Donavon successfully got him to the second floor, where he went to the nurse's office and got sent home, with no reprimand at his expense. Although something good _did _come out of it; Mr. Donavon got an "award" for "saving the school" – though I'm pretty sure a six year old girl could have taken down Roy without a fight – and we talked about it for the next two days, broaching the idea of how to cut out the power like Roy had managed, and forgetting the curriculum entirely. That is, until Principal Jodway figured out why the fourth floor was so loud second bell every day.

As the days went by though, the gossip got stretched thin, almost nothing to talk about other than the usual assemblies that happened every month. Three days after the Roy incident, I think I had the most embarrassing moment of my life happen to me.

Day 6 (Voice of Max Perwitz, 15)

It was right before I was going to stop by the library help window, to say hello to Mr. Keefe, that it happened.

Technically, I wasn't having a good day anyways, so it only added to the depressing feeling. It started out like this; Six A.M. I wake up, pour myself a glass of orange juice, and plan to watch a few back episodes of Fringe on my iTouch, lying in bed and wasting time until my mom calls me down for breakfast. Dad usually cooks pancakes or waffles, standard family stuff he picked up from watching _Full House_. When I went to find my iTouch though, my sister had killed the battery. She'd taken it with her last night at the Y, to listen to Motion City Soundtrack while running on the treadmills, she said. I was pissed, but I pretended like it didn't matter. After all, what does it matter if I don't have time to waste one morning? I should be getting ready beside the point. But then when I went to get dressed, all of my jeans were in the wash so I had to borrow a pair of my dad's. Yeah.

To make matters worse, when I got on the bus, I forgot my DBQ essay and _The Last Juror, _which I knew was way overdue by now.

So by the time it was sixth bell, lunch time, I just wasn't into it. I didn't eat the turkey sandwich meal, I just storm-walked down the hall, heading for the "Falcons Den" – a little school store that sold snacks and school supplies, sponsoring our mascot, the falcon. I would grab a soda and then complain about my issues to Mr. Keefe, who always listened without judging.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten Andrea managed the Falcons Den. I had also – not forgotten – Neal, who was flirting with Andrea nearly every day, in front of me. For some reason I just couldn't let it go. Andrea had been so nice to me for that one moment, and then she had fallen for Neal, forgot that I was there. My plan when I entered Santa Barbra High School wasn't to blend in with everyone else. I wanted to stand out, be special.

And look what it got me; some freaky power that let me control the weather with my mind. Out of all the cool super powers in the world, I had to get controlling the weather. Add for a fact that I couldn't tell anyone or show anyone, and my life was thoroughly beginning to suck.

So when I opened the door, planning on buying a crème soda and chugging the whole thing in five seconds, I saw Andrea and Neal, both balanced on the desk that held the candy selections. Just for the record, I saw a Twix bar stuck to Neal's ass, but I'm kind of glad I never said anything.

Anyways, so I open the door and they're both right over the candy box, making out. Not only are they making out but his hand is practically touching her boob. And here I am, watching them making out, the door wide open. I can't move; my legs are weak. And I can bet my mouth was wide open. I guess they must have noticed the door was open; Neal looked my way and then I quickly ran, forgetting my soda.

Week 2, October 9th, Thursday, 9:34AM

After a week of avoiding Neal, Max finally spoke to him.

For one whole week, Max had pretty much kept to himself, eating lunch in the library, occasionally talking with Mr. Keefe about the _Hunger Games _book series, which had become pretty popular books to borrow at the school. Then he would go home, pop season 1 of _Fringe_ into the DVD player and sit on his bed, doing homework until dinner time. After dinner he would watch more _Fringe, _and then eventually fall asleep.

_I must be, literally, the most boring person in the world, _he thought to himself.

Once he got to earth science, it changed.

Walking in on Andrea and Neal wasn't exactly the highlight of the month. After that, he had managed to run into them twice a day, if not more. Bumping into Andrea in the lunch line, when they were both reaching for a pudding cup. Each had pulled away in embarrassment from their hands touching, and Max had walked away, leaving behind his tray. Another time had been in the computer lab, when oddly, both Neal's and Max's algebra classes were in, testing out a new virtual math program. Neither of the two had spoken at all during the project, but Max could have sworn Neal was glancing at him a few times when he thought he wasn't looking.

And, most recently, the "assembly incident" as Max had secretly dubbed it inside his mind. No one else knew how or why it had happened, but Max couldn't help but feel guilty every time he passed the water-logged auditorium. Come to think of it, the auditorium incident was probably what got Neal talking in the first place.

It was a few days before the next pep rally, and Principal Jodway was adamant on holding a "pep rally safety" assembly, something about reminding the students not to use flare guns this year, after what happened last time, involving fifteen paramedics and about two hundred angry parents writing furious hate mail to the board of education, who had allowed the pep rallies outrageous stunts.

Max had been lingering outside the entrance with all the other teenagers, sneaking texts on his phone when the hall monitors weren't looking, and strolling up and down the row of vending machines for something to do.

That's when he noticed the rain.

It had been a while – really, only about a week since he had tested out this new…_thing _of his – since his experience with rain, and the sight of it made him stop dead in his tracks. Shaking his head, he thought, _you're scared of some rain, and you're fifteen freaking years old. Grow up. _But yet he still didn't move; his feet planted firmly on the floor; eyes locked on the steady stream of water slowly slipping down the windows' surface. It was a light shower but he could tell it was going to get a lot worse real soon. Feeling useful, feeling more like Toby McGuire did when he began to save New York City after discovering he was a human spider – although this was completely different, Max amended – he outstretched his hand towards the door and closed his eyes, concentrating. After a moment, he cracked open an eye and looked out the doors' windows. Sure enough, it was still raining. He closed his eye, trying again to stop the flow of rain. Even though the pep rally was two days away, it almost seemed like he would be saving it if he stopped the rain. In some small, unexplainable, way…it made him feel like a hero. Closing his fist once more, he concentrated…_hard_. He thought of nothing but the rain, of stopping it completely, of the sun breaking through the heavy storm clouds, bringing light to the school's campus.

Unfortunately, that backfired.

For a few minutes, Max thought he had finally accomplished something he'd set his mind to; the sounds of thunder and pelting of rain drops on the roof had slowly subsided into…nothing. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment. That is, until the sounds came back. Only…_worse_. No longer was it simple drops of rain beating down on the sidewalk – no, now a huge wave of water was rushing towards the entrance doors to the school, full-force, like a hurricane. Max's jaw dropped in shock and he quickly turned around, stumbling in the other direction, waving his arms like a lunatic, shouting, "GET BACK! GET BACK!" no one knew what he was talking about, until they turned in the direction of the water themselves. Too late for those who were pulling out their cell phones to document the experience; they were instantly swept up by the current and sent rushing right into the open doors of the auditorium. Max continued running straight towards the office entrance, away from the rushing water. Not surprising – to himself, anyways – he passed Neal, who was handing the elderly woman behind the counter at the attendance office a folded-up note, and gave him a sort of limp wave before rounding the next corner.


	8. You can date whoever you want

"Coffee isn't my cup of tea."

Samuel Goldwyn

So yeah. Not exactly what he had been hoping for.

"Hey, Max, can I talk to you?" Neal's voice broke Max out of his daydream; he'd been staring out the window to his right, thinking of where he could try and convince his parents to take him to dinner tonight. McDonalds was out – his parents were strictly on a "no-carbs" diet, which pretty much ruled out _all _restaurants and fast food joints – but maybe they would allow Ruby Tuesday's? lately the atmosphere in the house had been unbearable; Uncle George had been caught by the cops a few nights ago with cocaine, during a bar fight that he was, coincidentally, involved in. Kelly hadn't taken that too well.

_You want to talk to me? _"Sure." Max nodded at the vacant desk next to him. The teacher hadn't come in yet, and the whole class was buzzing with what-I'm-doing-tomorrow chatter.

Neal looked hesitantly down at the desk across from him, but sat down. "So…" he looked at the chalkboard as he spoke to Max. "I've been thinking about what's been going on lately…"

_Does he know_? Max felt his heart begin to beat faster and faster.

"I'm sorry about dating Andrea. When I knew you liked her." Neal finished in a rushed sentence. He looked nervous as he ran a hand through his hair slowly, waiting for Max to speak. It was a half truth, really. Feeling guilty wasn't a normal occurrence for him; he'd encouraged Max to ask Andrea out on a date and when he had shrunk away, it had basically been a blinking, neon-bright sign for Neal to go for it.

Though he still felt the same as he had when he'd found out Andrea and Neal were dating, Max couldn't help but feel sympathy for the guy. He'd been pretty good friends with him, ever since the first week of school. Maybe Neal might be a girlfriend-snatcher, but he was still Neal. It was hardly his fault, but all he could do was shoot a lopsided grin at him and quietly say, "It's all good, man." He felt the lump form in his throat before he could force it away, and he blinked his eyes rapidly to make it go away. He didn't know why he felt so strongly for a girl he knew nothing about, but he did.

"Really?" Neal asked in relief, the concerned look on his face quickly fading away. He'd thought getting forgiveness from Max would be much more difficult.

"Yeah." Max lied, looking down at the floor, seeing a Milky Way candy bar wrapper underneath his Converse sneaker. "You can date whoever you want, you know."

Neal could feel there was more to his story, but decided to let it go. After all, if he had forgiven him, he shouldn't press him further until the issue blew over entirely. He scrolled through his mind, trying to think of a funny show or a book he had read, something to change the subject on, until another substitute earth science teacher walked through the door, and he forget what he was going to say.

Max looked up from the floor – after removing the Milky Way wrapper out from under his sneaker – and realized why Neal was gaping at the new substitute teacher standing at the front of the room. It was no secret their normal teacher, Mr. Sutherland, was never around due to his bad bout with his wife. She had leukemia and everyone was trying to be as supportive as they could.

His back was to the students, but even _that _part of him was intimidating. He was muscled and when he wrote his name on the chalkboard with a flourish, the small pink piece snapped in half. A sort of muffled murmur went through the group of students sitting at their desks. Taking advantage of the subs was always something to be enjoyed among the students and now it seemed apparent they would undoubtedly _have _to pay attention this time. The normal routine – since the second week of school – was usually swapping one sub for another every day. This made it difficult to learn the curriculum, especially since some of the teachers never bothered to look at the lesson plans or they knew nothing about earth science and showed an informational video instead.

Finally, the man turned around, and Neal gulped.

To say he was "thickly built" would be putting it nicely. He was tall as a building with a flat, square-like nose and very large hands that he had folded together, crossing them over his stomach in – Max assumed so – an effort to look even tougher.

"My name's Bob Robinson…but you can just call me Mr. R." Bob said in his deep, loud voice. It seemed to echo through the small class room. His red polo shirt seemed to stretch even more across his muscled torso as he folded his arms over his chest and paced up and down the long row of desks.

"We're going to be starting phases of the moon today, troops-" Max instantly knew why this guy was so buff and intent on looking it: he was a former marine – "You'll be partnered up with whoever I choose for you and you will have the rest of the bell to finish the work sheet. Whether or not you get it done will be on you. Any questions?"

The fact that the students had not bothered to learn anything up until this point, therefore working on phases of the moon would be pointless, obviously had not registered with Bob, who continued to add to his marine persona, stiffly throwing packets to the students in the first rows, watching them as they each passed one back to the person behind them. Once it seemed to satisfy him, he barked, "Get to work!" and the students broke up into groups, the talking resuming from before, but slightly muted now.

Neal turned back to Max, apparently forgetting their entire conversation as he raised his eyebrows and flipped to the front page of his packet, scribbling down his name.

"It's not like I don't mind…I mean, I really don't!" Max exclaimed to Casey Keefe, a.k.a. Mr. Keefe, who was listening intently to Max's story of Neal's recent apology. It had been a few hours since earth science and he still couldn't shake the feeling of regret for not having told Neal off. He shouldn't have gotten away with what he had done so easily. For some reason Andrea seemed very important to him even though he had only spoken with her on…three times, was it now?

"But yet…" Casey smiled as he drew back from the stainless-steel counter he had been leaning on in the informational window. "You do."

"I know." Max groaned, feeling much like he were starring on an after-school special version of his life.

"Max…" Casey shook his head in disappointment. "How is Neal ever going to know how you really feel about Andrea if you don't tell him yourself?"

_After school special…take 2… _Max mentally chided himself for sinking so low as to ask a _teacher _on relationship advice.

"Well he should know." Max folded his arms across his chest in defiance.

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you, you are both two teenage boys completely stuck on your_selves_?"

Max responded by rolling his eyes. "Thank you so much for your support."

Casey sighed. "Max, think about it."

"Think about what?" Max asked in exasperation, but Casey was already reaching for the string that pulled the window down, and all he did was shoot Max a small smile before the window _clicked _shut.

October 10th, Friday, 5:30PM

(Voice of Laura Perwitz)

The first thing I see when I walk into Sarah and Max's new house is probably not what every girl should see her uncle doing – but to be "rated G", Uncle George and his current girlfriend were on the counter, making out. Aunt Kelly and Uncle Henry had invited me to dinner, which Max had warned me not to go to, and for once, I actually sided with him on this one. I probably shouldn't have come.

"Ah, god, sorry!" the blond that had just one second ago been spit-swapping with my uncle hopped down from the counter, scooped her purse off the floor, and ran out the door.

I stared, bewildered, at my uncle. He didn't even look bothered by what had just happened; he scratched the back of his head, stretched, and walked into the living room.

"Hey Laura!" Max walked into the kitchen, followed by some tall kid I'd never seen before, with black hair and blue eyes. He waved limply at me, and Max waved his arm in a dramatic flourish towards me.

"This is Laura, Laura, Neal."

Neal, huh? Did he have a brother? Was his name Sit?

I held back a grin as I waved back. Where was Sarah when I needed her? Supposedly she had rented out _Phantom of The Opera, _which was my all-time favorite movie.

"Oh, hey, are you going to the play tonight?" Neal asked me. I looked at him in confusion. "What play?" SB High was kind of "strapped for cash", as Principal Jodway had oh-so-eloquently put it, and we hadn't actually acted out a play since my parents attended school there.

"_Unnecessary Farce_." Neal said in a dramatic, poor Scottish accent.

"Uh, no I don't think so." I looked up at the ceiling for something to do, hoping Sarah would come down and rescue me. I'd only ever really seen my cousin a few times in person, and the times that I could remember him, all I could think of was his short-lived Pokémon phase when he was eleven.

"And then when we get back, I rented _500 Days of Summer_." A familiar, light voice chirped. I looked down and saw Sarah come running at me for a hug. It was so nice to see her again that I didn't even bother to complain about having to watch yet another romantic comedy in place of _Phantom. _I think she lied about it just to see if I would come over.

Once we pulled away, I smiled. She looked the same as she always had…only better.

The last time I'd seen Sarah had been a while ago, but from what I could remember, she could "pinch an inch" to put it sorta-meanly, but now she was slim, _really_ slim, and her smile was bright and wide. Something must have happened to her over the summer, and I am serious.

Sarah gestures I follow her upstairs to get ready, and we run up the stairs, betting on who can get to her room fastest. It'd been a game between us as kids and we had just sort of kept it going since.

She gets there first – because I didn't know whose room hers was – and she walks over to her mirror, dabbing on mascara and blush. As I watched her, I noticed the framed family portrait on the wall, and it made me think about my "family" of sorts.

See, my parents got into a car accident when I was ten, they both died on impact, left me all alone, and since both of my grandparents had already passed away, I was moved into my mom's closest friends' home, Jennica Green. It was kind of hard to get used to – I was only ten and I missed my parents really bad, and all who I had to turn to was Jennica, who housed three other kids who she'd adopted: Thomas, Scott, and Mayella. Thomas came from Finland, Scott from Zurich, and Mayella from Haiti. The house was straight out of that movie, _Yours, Mine, and Ours_. Always chaos, clothes dumped all over the floor, the kitchen a huge mess, and you _never _had any bathroom time to yourself. Over the years Jennica got married to this teacher from SB High, and he fit right in with us, which I guess Thomas, Scott, Mayella, and I were all worried about it; after all, it took me at least two years to get used to the new lifestyle.

There were some times that were tough – like going into that depressive state I was in for nearly two months; I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, I'd visit my parents' grave site every day and just lay there at the foot of the headstones. I couldn't change the fact that they were gone, and once that seemed to sink in with me, nothing could make the depression leave. Jennica helped me get through that, signing me up with a therapist, encouraging me to volunteer at homeless shelters and food drives and the Salvation Army. None of that really seemed to work on me, until I met Sabrina, who really changed my mind about the world. I was volunteering at one of those homeless shelter places, packing up my apron and saying goodbye to all the residents, folding out the mental map in my head, picking which route on my bicycle would take me to the fastest to the grave site. But as I had my hand on the doorknob, this young girl comes up to me, and hugs me, telling me all about how grateful she is for me since her parents died and how her uncle has to take care of her, and how he never has any money and she wishes I could stay there with her and be her sister.

That night, I didn't stop at the gravesite.

"I really wish they would serve popcorn during school hours," Neal lamented to Max as they strolled through the lobby of SB High, waiting for the play to start. He dug his hand into the paper bag he was holding and shoved another handful of the buttery, movie-theater style popcorn in his mouth as he continued to talk, "Hey I was watching _Criminal Minds _the other day, and you missed a hell of an episode. That JJ girl, the blond? She left the show! Can you believe that?" small bits of half-chewed popcorn flew from his mouth as he spoke, and Max winced slightly at the sight. He watched _Criminal Minds _every Wednesday at nine, with Sarah and sometimes Kelly, but you really needed to have a sort of "dark side" to watch the show, at least, that's what Max had always thought and his mother worked with _pre-schoolers._

"Actually I always liked Prentiss." Max shrugged, ending the conversation as they neared the auditorium doors. Some students were milling about, but most were parents, clutching the small play packets with excitement and gushing to other parents about how one of their kids was going to star in the play.

Max looked over at Neal and studied him for a moment. Things had gone from being good, to bad, to good again with them. It almost seemed…too easy. Andrea might be his girlfriend but Max still couldn't let that go. If he – secretly – admitted it to himself, he used to think that maybe, just maybe, how cool it would be if Andrea had some sort of power too, and that she would dump Neal and run into Max's arms and-

"Max? Max?" he felt his shoulder being nudged and he looked up at Neal, whose eyebrows were raised.

"Come on; the play's starting."

Max nodded numbly.


	9. Movie References

**(Missing part from chapter six) **

"_I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying" – Oscar Wilde_

12:00AM was what the green LED digital clock read when Max flipped over on his side, rustling the sheets in his bed and looking to his night stand for the time. It had seemed he had fallen asleep, maybe only for a moment, but even if he only slept that short time – he wasn't sure, which he found odd – he felt well rested, and he quietly slipped out of bed and reached for his discarded jeans, the ones he had tossed onto the floor last night before falling asleep. Slowly, he opened the door of his closet and flipped through the hangers, looking for the perfect, discreet jacket. Once or twice, while pawing through his endless collection of pea coats, windbreakers, winter jackets, American Eagle hoodies, Hollister sweaters, and North Face pull-overs, he heard the squeaking of floorboards beneath someone's feet. Either they didn't notice that Max's bedroom light was on or it was Uncle George and he was just drunk and restless.

A few moments later, he hesitantly pushed open his oak door and looked first to his left, in the direction of his sister Sarah and the guest bedrooms', and then to his right; His parents, Uncle George, and the study room.

After making sure the coast was clear, he took off for the long flight of stairs. Thankfully the floor was carpeted, and his run was muted. Once he got to the creaky wooden stairs, he stepped as carefully and quietly as he could, going one step at a time until he reached the last two steps and jumped over them.

He made sure he had his spare key tucked in his pocket before he firmly shut the door behind him and began in the direction to the local park.

Granted, he had watched his fair share of _Harry Potter _movies to know that at night, parks were really, really creepy. On the other hand, where was he to go to test out this new ability? Stay inside the house? Get caught?

Besides, he wasn't entirely sure if this new _thing _for him could be done inside a barrier or if it had to be done outside. He wasn't doing any harm, he reminded himself, and that helped him continue with his plan.

Passing by a hunter-green Ford minivan, it brought back memories of his former home.

Before Santa Barbra, before palm trees and beaches and volleyball, Max and his family lived in the small town of Homer, Alaska. Everything had gone smoothly up until Max turned twelve and his parents began to talk about what-ifs: "What if we moved closer to family? California, maybe?" and then Max feared the worst.

Before he knew it, he had just turned fifteen and they were packing up, heading to Santa Barbra, where his father got a job offer as a college professor.

Once he got to the park, he headed straight for the benches by the swing sets and sat down, feeling the moisture seep into the denim of his jeans. He cursed under his breath as he immediately sat up and looked up at the dark, starry sky as if to say, _why me_?

The only thing he knew he could do so far was control the wind, stretch his hand into a fist and there'd be a powerful gust. So he tried that first.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waited.

After a few moments, he cracked open his left eye, as if expecting to see the wind, rather than having heard it first. But no, there was no wind.

Once again, he closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and waited some more as he slowly curled his hand into a fist.

Again, just like the last time, there was nothing.

Out of frustration, he clenched his eyes even tighter, and dug his nails into his palm. He concentrated hard, thinking of strong winds, the same kinds that used to happen back in Homer. Of course back then his father was always there to comfort him – when he was younger, the wind storms had frightened him with their ghostly wails – and right now he was completely alone. However, this was his choice and his life now. He couldn't change what had happened.

Opening both eyes, he witnessed what he had thought before to be impossible; tree branches were flapping in the wind, a random grocery bag lying in the grass blew away, the wind was whistling in his ears.

He smiled triumphantly.

He uncurled his fist slowly and the tree branches slowly stopped flapping, the grocery bag that had been flying across the grassy lawn of the park was now lying flat near a parked Subaru, and the whistling noise abruptly stopped.

_If you can make wind…what else can you do_? He felt his pulse quicken in excitement.

Max had seen _X-Men _enough times to know that that one character Storm could make weather just abruptly come and go every time her eyes glazed over this freaky, filmy white color.

_Stop using movie references! This is real life! _

"It's official," Max said aloud to himself, "I've gone insane."

_Well you've tried wind! Try something else! _

Max squeezed his eyes shut again, but softer this time. _Think water…think Niagara Falls, think Noah's ark…_

He didn't have to open his eyes that that attempt had failed epically.

"Okay…round two." He murmured to himself. He opened his eyes this time and stretched his fingers slowly, focusing on water and nothing but that. It seemed like years to Max before he felt a slight shower begin to fall on his jacket's hood.

Impulsively, he thrust his hand to his side, letting it hang down by his thigh. Seconds later, a loud crack of thunder roared through the park. He combined that with his finger-curling-into-first routine, and then lightning joined. By now the rain was down pouring, soaking him clear through his jacket, but all he did was laugh and smile up at the sky.

This was definitely, completely, without a doubt, the coolest thing that had _ever _happened to him.


	10. Gone forever?

"_If we take the generally accepted definition of bravery as a quality which knows no fear, I have never seen a brave man. All men are frightened. The more intelligent they are, the more they are frightened." – General George S. Patton _

Foreword, Voice of Neal Potts (15)

I didn't think Max and I were on "fighting" terms about Andrea and I anymore, so when my mom handed me two tickets to Cedar Point across the kitchen table, I decided to invite…  
Andrea. Yeah I know, it doesn't make sense, you're supposed to invite your best friend, but I couldn't help but think of Andrea and how I would love to see her on a roller coaster, screaming her head off. You know how girls are about amusement park rides, freaking out and needing to hold their boyfriend's hand. They were set for next Saturday, weeks later, but I had this feeling Andrea and I would be together that long. She was practically the perfect girlfriend, after all, liking the same music as me, the same TV shows, the same books. It all made perfect sense.

But I didn't think that during our relationship, I would hurt Max, I didn't think because I was too focused on myself, I didn't realize, that through our friendship, I would push him away.

_Saturday, October 11__th__, 11:34A.M._

"Neal, you home already?" Cassandra, his mother, called from the living room where she clutched a can of diet Coke in her hand. She was sitting in front of their Sony flat screen TV, watching _Bones_. She'd just heard the front door open and shut, rather loudly. He always seemed to do that when he was upset.

"Uh, yeah!" Neal called from the door, where he was balancing on one sock foot while pulling off a Van sneaker. He tilted his shoulder to the side and his Addidas backpack fell to the carpet with a _thud_. He winced as he fell onto the floor. Things at casa de Perwitz yesterday hadn't gone too well. After the play, Andrea had called him, and he'd gotten distracted. He and Max had been in a heated game of Wii tennis but then Andrea called, freaking out about her brother and how he had been taken to urgent care, something about his diabetes and Neal had immediately dropped the controller and rushed outside to talk with her privately.

"Neal?"

"I'M COMING!" Neal yelled back in exasperation, pulling off his other sneaker and getting up from the floor.

It wasn't like he was rubbing it in Max's face or anything; he had gone outside to talk with Andrea, not inside where Max would hear every word of their conversation.

Plus…Andrea hadn't really told him much.

"Could you get my magazine off the table?" she called.

Neal rolled his eyes as he grabbed the _Better Homes and Gardens _magazine off the end table next to the doorway. Why Cassandra even bothered to read the thing was beyond him; she never got out of the house, and when she did, it wasn't to "tend to her garden".

"How was Max's?" Cassandra asked lightly, plucking the magazine out of Neal's hand.

Neal shrugged.

Cassandra shrugged back, making no effort to ask her son about his problem, and instead she flipped through her magazine, eyeing a spread of pink peony flowers. When it seemed Neal hadn't walked away, she looked up at him pointedly and raised a blond eyebrow.

Neal rolled his eyes at her before turning around and stomping his way to the stairs. His father, Sam, may be around, but he wasn't _around _around. He had been diagnosed with schizophrenia when Neal was just six years old, and to the day, Cassandra still pretended like nothing at all was wrong, even though Neal's father spent all day in the basement, taking apart old computers to check for "taps" as he was convinced the government was out to get both him and his family.

His brother Justin, who was two years younger than him, avoided the family worse than even Sam did, staying late at "practice", though Neal knew that football wasn't Justin's thing, and neither was any sport, really. The only ones really ever at the house were Cassandra and Sam. Neal tried to make himself scarce as possible; it felt like living inside a glass house; so transparent everyone on the outside was looking in, and everyone on the inside was looking out, wondering if others had it just as bad as them.

He walked up the carpeted stairs slowly, hoping his father from below wouldn't register the fact that his son had just entered the house. Usually if he ran, Sam would have heard his footsteps and called him down to the basement. The last time Neal went into the basement Sam had spent two and a half hours showing him how there were secret messages within all facebook statuses.

It had taken a while to come out of that one, Neal thought glumly as he tossed his Addidas backpack on his green comforter. Dealing with his father's illness wasn't half as bad as dealing with the fact that he may, someday, end up just like his father, mentally insane and taking apart keyboards to locate bombs that were "planted" there by the NSA.

Barnes and Noble bookstore, 1:34PM

Max stood by the New Releases section of Barnes & Noble, feeling completely awful. Neal had left his house early that morning, and that hadn't bothered him; his throat was becoming pretty sore and he didn't want to be stuck inside the house all day moping around. His sister Sarah did that, lying around and not doing anything whenever she had the slightest cold.

He scanned the book titles, searching for something to pop out at him. He'd gotten pretty sick of watching _House _reruns on USA and Casey hadn't been around to wow him with a new book.

After much debating – and trying, no, failing, at attempting to look older and more mature than the children weaving in and out of the aisles of bookcases – he selected _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. _He'd heard it was a bit _too _creepy, but to hell with it. He needed something entertaining in his life.

_Spoke too soon_. There was always the ever-present power at his fingertips, and Max shoved his right hand in his jean pocket quickly, as if that was all it took to make the feeling go away. He hadn't done much yet, but he had plans.

"Max?" the familiar, light voice of Andrea Portland asked. Max looked up from the cover of his book, and watched as Andrea made her way from the bestsellers section, clutching _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. "What are you doing here?"

Max shrugged, and then hated himself instantly for doing so. He wanted to be friends with Andrea – more than friends, if he was being honest with himself – and it probably looked to her like he was shutting her out.

"Um, what are _you _doing here?" he asked quickly.

Andrea's smile slipped into something of a grimace. "I'm getting this-" she lifted up the paperback novel so Max could see-"for my brother Rob. He's not feeling too good so I thought I would cheer him up."

_This is your chance! Take it! _"Oh really?" Max asked. "What's he sick with, if you don't mind me asking or anything?"

Andrea waved him off. "No, you can ask." She looked to her right, seeing a young mother scold her daughter as she stomped on the floor. "He has type two diabetes and he was actually diagnosed a few weeks ago."

_Wow. _"How are your parents dealing with that?"

"Paren_t_." Andrea corrected. "Mom left."

"Left?" Max echoed. His eyes darted around the store, making sure no one from school could hear them, and then he directed her to the safe section, the self-help books. No sane teenagers would be in this section.

Andrea nodded, and Max could see her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"No, it's okay." Max said quietly. "It's okay." Before he knew it, Andrea her arms around him in a tight hug.

Max felt her blond hair brush his cheek, and he – couldn't resist – sniffed quickly. Coconut shampoo. Nice.

"I'm sorry." Andrea sniffed, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I don't wanna…I mean…" she slowly stepped away from him, the book still in her hand.

"No." Max shook his head. He wouldn't be so insensitive as to shake her off. Instinctively he reached for her hand, and when he realized he was holding her hand, soft and cool, he quickly let go and gestured she follow him. They walked deeper into the store, near all of the _Twilight _paraphernalia, where Max was _positive _no one would go near. They sat between life-size cardboard cut-outs of Bella and Jacob, and Max pulled a pack of Kleenex out of his back pocket. He slowly pulled a tissue from the pack and handed one to Andrea.

As Andrea sniffed and gently blew her nose, Max could feel his sore throat slowly beginning to disappear.

Andrea was such a beautiful girl and – he guessed – intelligent. As harsh as it sounded, Andrea was the exact opposite of Neal's ideal girlfriend. At least that was what Max had gathered from his previous ones.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?" Max asked gently, waiting until after she was done blowing her nose to ask the question.

"Well…Neal wanted me to talk about it with him, but I…I just couldn't, you know?" Andrea's blue eyes were right on Max's, and he struggled to find what to say. Finally, he managed a weak, "Uh, yeah. Sometimes that stuff is hard."

Andrea smiled thinly. "Thanks Max…for listening."

Max smiled. "Hey, uh…wanna go get slushees?"

Andrea grinned.

9:45P.M. Max could hardly believe it. He and Andrea had spent nearly the whole day together, without a single awkward moment or uncomfortable silence. Neal wasn't mentioned once, and the only relatively "bad" thing they talked about was the cancelling of Andrea's favorite show, _Heroes, _which Max didn't bother to add the fact that he, also like her favorite character, Claire, harbored a certain secret about a power he was sure _no one _else knew about. A few times, he had even considered telling her, but decided against it at the last second. He didn't know Andrea that well.

Now he stood on the boardwalk overlooking yet another beach in the community of Santa Barbra, smiling, his hands folded together, leaning against the wooden balcony with ease. He had nothing to do the rest of the day, and his parents probably wouldn't be worried about him – they were far more concerned with Uncle George and his newest drug habit.

"Wow," Max mused aloud, "this is so weird." Something good was actually happening to him. How many times had he thought nothing would come out of this move to Santa Barbra? Thought that it would be just like last time; making no friends, crushing on a girl who didn't crush back, and then finally admitting defeat in the lowest way possible: having a marathon gaming session of Call of Duty Black Ops while simultaneously stuffing his face with Entenmann's chocolate chip cookies?

_And now…no one's around…_Max looked to his left – an elderly couple slowly piling their water cooler and wicker chairs back into their station wagon – and then to his right – a waterlogged, day-old newspaper's pages fluttered in the breeze.

_Coast's clear. _

Closing his eyes, he outstretched his hand towards the water, afraid of what was to come out of it if he did.

When he cracked open an eye, he saw nothing, felt…_nothing_. What was going on? Feeling like he was beginning to panic, he tried to do the most-easy move: curling his hand into a fist and waiting for the wind to start.

He tried that three times.

_Is it gone? Was it all in my imagination? _Max stepped away from the balcony, now _really _panicking. What if it had all been some sort of sick dream? What was going on? He tripped, falling backwards, and landed in the sand.


	11. Missing part from chapter 10

After switching the newest Train album to Grizzly Bear, Andrea Portland leaned back in her desk chair and smiled as the hard drive booted up. It had been a crazy week, to say the least, and she wasn't feeling too good about what she had done.

Admittedly, she had crushed on Max first, and it seemed like they really had a connection, but then Neal had come into the picture, and so quickly was she swept off her feet at his charm and poise that she forgot all about Max as the weeks went by. But then something came to her:

What if he was like her?

The secret had been driving her insane for _years _and she'd had no one to tell the sob-story to other than her stuffed animals, and come on, she was in high school now; it was a little late for that.

After all, it _did _sort of seem to add up: in the days after she and Neal had made their relationship "facebook official" Andrea began to notice the signs. It could be chalked up to jealousy by her and Neal, but she didn't think so. In class, Max would ask for a pass to the bathroom and then he would be gone for nearly half an hour. The teacher, nearly elderly with her age, never seemed to notice, but Andrea always wondered where he would disappear off to. He wasn't the "skipper" type. Not only that, but he was also in her lunch, and through the sea of faces, Andrea could never pick him out. She'd been around when he talked to other people, too, and he seemed so…_distant_. She'd seen the same signs in a number of people back at her old school; that football jock Matthew, that girl on the debate team, Morgan, and the head of the student yearbook, Richard.

None of them had ever opened up to anyone about their secret, as far as she could tell, and all of them had acted the same way Max was acting now.

Yup, Andrea could pretty much admit it to herself, a small whisper,

"Max has powers."

Takes one to know one.


	12. Freshman Failure

"_A word to the wise isn't necessary – it's the stupid ones that need the advice." – Bill Cosby_

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Monday, October 12th, 9:11AM

I can't concentrate. As I hold my pencil in my hand and stare down at my test paper, I'm unsure of the answers. Global had always been my best, easiest, class. Straight A's.

_Not anymore, _I think glumly. I'd known there would be a test, but after what had happened on the weekend, I couldn't do anything but lie around and mope. For a few weeks, I had had an amazing thing that no one else had, and then it just…_disappeared_. It was gone.

What was really bugging me, what I couldn't stop asking myself, was: had all of this simply been in my imagination? I'd seen _A Beautiful Mind_; crazy people imagined crazy things. For all I knew, I could have created an alter-ego, to help me get through the move to Santa Barbra. The more I thought about it, the more I wished it was true.

_Crazy people do crazy things…_reminds me of Neal. Once again, my jealousy works back up in my mind and I can't stop picturing the moment I walked in on him and Andrea. He _knew _I liked her! He encouraged me to ask her out, even! Was it because I hesitated? Did he automatically assume that because I didn't jump on the opportunity it was _his _turn to have a go?

Once again, I stare down at my test. Around me, I can hear the familiar scratching of pencils against paper, other kids so far ahead of me they're nearly done.

**Question 1: How do the code of Hammurabi and the Twelve Tables compare? **

Oh crap. It's as if my mind has been wiped of everything I've done in global class the past few weeks. The Twelve Tables? What the hell are those? I wipe my hand across my forehead and realize I'm sweating.

Okay, no problem. Move on to question two.

**Question 2: What group followed the Bushido code? **

Crap! I don't know that one either! I look to my left, at Adam, who is also still on the first page. Adam's one of those kids who takes their sweet time during a test and gets perfect grades doing it. Me, I never have the patience.

Maybe if I just tilt my head…

_No! _My conscience, stupid, idiotic, sense of reason, makes me turn to my right, instead, to look at Sadie Addamie, the weirdest girl you'll ever meet; her pale white skin offsets her black hair, and she wears the most ridiculous outfits: oversized black pants with chains dangling off them, an Invader Zim tank top, and crazy makeup that makes me wonder if she works as a mime part time.

A quick glance at the clock tells me its four minutes until the bell rings, and I still haven't answered one problem.

Alright…I'll just pull a Neal. "Pulling a Neal" is what I call Neal's method of last-minute test answering: circling the initials of his favorite band (ACDC) over and over.

As I do this, it brings me back to the conversation I'd had with Andrea at Barnes & Noble. At first she just seemed like one of those girls that keeps everything to themselves. I guess it was what I'd said that made her upset. Her family's dysfunctional, too, which makes me feel a bit better about mine. At least my parents are together. I mean, we live with our drug addict uncle and mute grandmother, but still. Come to think of it, I haven't really checked on grandma in a while. She stays in the garage – hey, it's refurbished – and doesn't ever really come out. She has her own little kitchen and bathroom in there so it isn't imperative she come out, but I know it upsets dad to see her this way.

Another look at the clock: three minutes to the bell.

Quickly, I manage to circle all of the answers and as I get up from my chair, Adam taps me on the arm.

"Yeah?" I whisper. Mr. Donavon is playing a game of chess with himself again and he won't notice if we talk, but I speak quietly anyway.

"What's the answer to question nine?" he asks. "I can't figure it out."

I smile broadly and clap him on the shoulder. "When in doubt, pick C." My dad used to tell me about how his students always guessed three or C when they didn't know the answer because it was statistically proven teachers have a bias toward the answer three or C for testing.

Adam bites his lip, as if confused with the advice. I guess that's how smart kids are, wanting to be absolutely sure that their answer will be right before circling it.

When I walk up to Mr. Donavon's desk, he barely notices that I'm there, staring down intently at his chess board.

"Ah," he rubs the stubble on his chin, "checkmate!"

"Um, Mr. Donavon?" I clear my throat.

"Yes Mr. Perwitz?" he asks.

I always find it weird that 'ol Duncan calls us by our last names, as if we are adults. Right, okay.

"I'm finished." I shove the paper at him and then walk back to my desk.

Two minutes to the bell.

Maybe I should take up a hobby or something…to get my mind off everything? I know Adam hunts with his dad on the weekends. Just a lot of sitting in tree stands holding a rifle. Not too complicated. I make a mental note to ask Adam if I can tag along with him and his dad hunting this weekend.

My mom does yoga classes three times a week at the YMCA, but I don't really think I want to be caught doing a _yoga _class.

Sarah just watches _Psych _over and over, which is actually a pretty good show but I don't think sitting around is going to make me any less stressed about everything that's going on.

One minute to the bell.

I wonder what Andrea does in her spare time?

Fifty-five seconds.

Maybe she has a swimming pool.

Fifty seconds.

Maybe she suntans by it.

Forty-five seconds.

And sips pina coladas.

Forty seconds.

That reminds me of that song "Escape" by Rupert Holmes. My mom's obsessed with oldies songs. Thank God dad has a sense of reason and listens to music relevant to the past decade. Come to think of it, I need to borrow his Linkin Park CD. I'm not talking about the new one, either, the one that sucks. I'm talking about the "A Thousand Suns" album. Sarah's more on my mom's side than my dad's and mine – she listens to that alternative stuff, that doesn't sound good at all but is somehow popular, like Band of Horses and Animal Collective. I do side with her on one band – Sick Puppies. They're pretty good –

_Ringgggggg! _

During algebra, I ask to use the bathroom, and instead sneak down to the school store, where I know Andrea will be.

First thing, though…getting past the crazy Puerto Rican hall monitor by the second floor. It's been rumored she's so old she was in the Second World War. Once, Adam tried to go to the library without a pass and when _she _found out, she chased him all the way up the stairs and back into his study hall.

As I try to casually edge my way past her, she clears her throat loudly.

_Damn…_I look back at her and she gives me the famous "two finger" _come over here _gesture.

"Hi Mrs.…" I stop and squint at the name tag on her tank top. Through all of the times I've heard stuff about her, never once have I bothered to ask what her name is.

"Excuse me, young man!" she huffs, and quickly wraps her L.L. Bean sweater around her chest.

"No, I wasn't-"

"Where's your pass?" she interrupts. I hand over my agenda slowly, knowing my cheeks are probably bright red from her accusation.

She looks down at it skeptically – and I can't really blame her. Mr. Patnode has this weird-ass signature, sort of an M and then the rest is just squiggles. She's no doubt thinking I've signed the pass myself and made it look like a teacher has – lots of kids do that here, and I'm one of the few unlucky ones that has never attempted it but probably will always get the crap for it.

"You're going to the bathroom?" she asks.

I nod quickly. _Please just let me leave now…any second now… _

"Who signed this?" her beady eyes narrow.

"Uh, Mr. Patnode," I stammer.

"Ah." She nods in recognition. "Go on, then."

_Finally! _I take my agenda back and then speed-walk down the hallway.

On my way, I pass by Mr. Keefe.

"Maxamillion!" He calls, and I stop.

"Hey Mr. Keefe!" I give him a half-wave. I don't really want to stop and chat; the bell is almost over anyways. I might miss Andrea if I don't hurry.

"So how are the…girl troubles?" he lowers his voice and looks around, like Andrea's going to hear us even though she's two floors up.

"They could be better." _Better if I had my abilities back and Andrea was my girlfriend, but we can't all get what we want._

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_**A/N: Just a little filler chapter :) **


	13. Lies and the Lying Liars who Tell Them

**A/N: Okay, first off, I've got to give a shout-out to Bob the Robot for all of his amazing reviews and great ideas. Check out his story, Extraordinary Heroes! **

**School was busy all week, but I managed to write this small part about Andrea and Neal's crazy relationship!**

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**_"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit." - Aristotle _

**Tuesday, October 13****th****, 6:35PM**

It kind of bugged him, that Andrea was so quiet.

Neal Potts held his girlfriend's hand in silence as they walked up the pathway to the carnival. Typically, it was placed next to the beach and he found himself reminiscing about the trip he had taken to the Santa Monica Pier once, with his brother.

But remembering the trip with his _brother _– key word – reminded him of Andrea's brother. The one she refused to talk about, even though Neal had pressed her for details about her home life _so many times. _He'd been brave enough – well really, grown a pair and dealt with it – to show her to his mother, even! Okay, so he'd neglected to inform Andrea he _had _a father. But hey, she hadn't asked! Neal speculated she was just too polite to.

It was just weird, not really knowing anything about her.

She was polite, she loved puppies and the color yellow, she listened to Mariah Carey and swore up and down that football was her favorite sport.

These were the things Neal had discovered by _investigating. _He didn't know much else, and it upset him because he told her _everything_. Well, almost, anyways. There were the things he couldn't bear to say aloud. For instance, his father being schizophrenic.

Come to think of it, he hadn't told Max either, which only made him more nervous. His father wasn't an embarrassing comic book he had to hide under his mattress when his friends came over. He was supposed to be someone who is loved and appreciated. That much Neal knew.

"Neal?" Andrea nudged him in his side, trying to get his attention, but Neal's memories were still running a mile a minute through his mind.

Actually, the only real reason why he never told anyone about his father was because in seventh grade, when he had met the coolest kid ever – at the time, it was DJ Simmons, and the only thing the two really had in common was their mutual love of Grand Theft Auto – and brought him to his house, only to discover his dad was out of the basement and attacking the TV in the living room. Suffice to say, DJ had not taken that scene too well and never went over to his house again.  
"Neal?"

Of course there had been other "cool" kids along the way, but none of them Neal had ever shown his house to. He had learned his lesson.

"NEAL?"

"Huh? What?" Neal shook himself out of his daydream and turned to face Andrea. He was surprised to realize that the warmth of her hand had left his.

She'd let go.

"We're here!" she gestured with a wide smile to the many colorful tents and brightly-lit food booths that stood before them on the boardwalk.

Neal smiled. "Yeah, we are."

As they made their way to one of the food booths, Neal cleared his throat and casually asked, "So how was school today for you?"  
Andrea raised an eyebrow – slightly, Neal hoped – at his question, but answered truthfully, "It wasn't my favorite."

"Oh?"

"Neal, what are you getting at?" Andrea snapped, finally letting what she was thinking be said aloud.

"Nothing, nothing." Neal muttered, disappointed. They were back to square one, _again_. She wouldn't talk about anything anymore. "Do you want to get hamburgers or hotdogs?" Another thing he didn't know about her: which she preferred.

"Hamburgers." Andrea decided, but she looked uneasily at Neal, sensing he was upset. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, rubbing her hand on his arm. Neal closed his eyes for a moment, liking the way her warm hand rubbed in circular motions, as if relieving all of his stress by a simple movement.

"Yeah." Neal forced a small smile and let her hook her arm through his, walking to the food booth.

Once they sat down with their food, Andrea took to adding ketchup to the top of her burger and methodically arranging pickles in a smiley face, a distraction.

Neal stared at a man shouting for two women to play pinball at a game booth, hoping that by the time he looked back, Andrea wouldn't be giving him that sorry expression anymore.

"Actually, in bio today we talked about some pretty creepy things," Andrea admitted, and the suddenly-broken silence brought Neal to turn around in his seat and look at her in surprise.

"We talked about how some wives used anti-freeze to kill their husbands, and then that brought up the Stacey Castor case, which, when you think about it, is _really _creepy to be talking about…" Andrea let her voice trail off, for Neal to fill in.

"The Stacey Castor case..." Neal rubbed his chin. He honestly had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but maybe if he looked like he was contemplating the circumstances she wouldn't suspect anything.

"Yes." Andrea nodded and reached for her hamburger. A signal, if anything, for Neal to bring up his day.

This wasn't how Neal wanted their relationship to be like. Distant, forced, awkward. He wanted them to be close, to go to the movie theater together and see all of the cool new action movies, he _wanted_, period.

_What did I do today…what did I do…_Neal racked his brain for something, _anything_, to talk about. Earth science, maybe? Max hadn't been there, which was weird. Actually, bringing Max up might not be such a good thing, considering he still had a mini-crush on her. Neal wasn't stupid.

"I watched a movie in earth science." He offered. "About volcanoes." He didn't really think volcanoes would be stemmed into one of those – now, anyways – rare moments of hour-long conversations but it was a start.

"Mhm." Andrea nodded, her mouth full of hamburger.

"The cool thing is that the movie was made in like the seventies," Neal continued, knowing full well he would not touch his burger the rest of the conversation just so there would be no more awkward pauses between them, "But the CGI is still pretty impressive. Not _Transformers _impressive or anything like that, but pretty close." The reference of _Transformers _brought a smile to Neal's face. Max always talked about movies and that was one of his favorites.

"I love that movie!" Andrea exclaimed, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "The second one was pretty cool too."

Figures. The two movies Neal most hated in this world Andrea had to love. Yet again they were miles apart by differences and he had no idea how to fill the gap.

"I always liked _Eagle Eye _a bit better." Neal let the comment sink in, waiting for Andrea's OMG reaction. Eagle Eye was probably the best movie he had seen on government conspiracy. Normally Neal wasn't into those movies – quite obvious, but being a son of a schizophrenic you'd pretty much had your fill of conspiracy theories.

And he'd always really liked Shia LaBeouf since that remake Indiana Jones movie: _Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. _

"That movie was…alright." Andrea reached for her soda slowly and stared at Neal, waiting for his comeback. Usually whenever Neal had an interest that someone didn't agree with, he fought the person on it until they relented.

But Neal didn't want to start anything, so he lifted his can of vanilla Coke to his lips and took a long sip.

They both stared at each other, waiting for someone to talk again. How uncomfortable it had gotten in the past few weeks, Neal could not describe. At least, not at this point, where Andrea was staring at him with her pool-blue eyes and innocent expression, like she hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't been keeping secrets from him. Like _he _hadn't been keeping secrets from _her. _

Like they were both actually happy with each other.

"Did you know that they're starting a new club, at school?" Andrea asked. The way their conversation was going back and forth, from Andrea to Neal to Andrea again reminded her of a heated tennis match. Both of them competitive, neither of them willing to lose.

"What kind of club?" Neal took another long sip of his soda, making it clear he expected her to take over.

"Some kind of…adventure club…" Andrea hedged. She didn't know how to make it sound any more interesting than it was. Besides, what else did she have to do in her spare time after school? If Neal joined maybe she wouldn't be so chicken not to.

"Adventure club?" Neal echoed. The title sounded lame, the idea more clichéd than the vampire book section at Wal-Mart. Santa Barbra wasn't exactly a place for adventure. The only one cool club Neal had ever joined that was school-related was the gamers club. And even that was disbanded by the principal because of their "violent" game suggestions.

"Mhm." Andrea nervously ripped a piece of her hamburger's bun, and absently dropped it onto the ground.

"You want to join?" He didn't want to, but it was glaringly obvious _she _did. And if something _finally _made her happy, made her smile, he would do it.

"I…I think so." She brought a thumbnail to her mouth and bit down.

Neal tried not to wrinkle his nose up in disgust at the sight. Didn't she know how much bacteria was on her hands? She was bringing that into her mouth! He mentally made a countdown of when he would see her show up at school with a cold. "That's cool." He said airily.

Andrea frowned.

"Maybe we could go?" the offer was forced and they both knew it.

"You know what we should do?" Andrea jumped up from her seat like was on fire. "Let's go play a game."

"Uh, sure." Neal swept his arm across the table, collecting his uneaten burger, half-empty soda can, and crumpled napkin. His eyes flitted over to Andrea's mess, which she made no effort to clean up as she eagerly sped-walked to the pinball game, where grown men were competing to win their six year old daughters' stuffed animals. He sighed and loaded the garbage into his arms.

By the time Neal caught up with her, she was sitting on one of the red leather chairs, waiting for him. With a smile, she patted the seat next to hers.

Since this was an invitation and not a forced moment, Neal gladly plopped down next to her and handed the man behind the booth a five dollar bill. While others gradually came over to the booth, mostly by their own children's orders, Neal stared ahead of him at the stuffed animals hanging in baskets. If he won – which, come on, wouldn't be too hard – he'd definitely give Andrea the stuffed animal. It was typical, like in all of those cheesy, one star movies, but he thought maybe, just maybe, that would help them get past the really uncomfortable moments that chalked up to their relationship.

"Okay, we need one last person! One more!" the man behind the booth called. "Who else is going to step right up and join these fellows?"

The person who came and sat down made Neal's eyes widen.

It was Max.

Where he had come from or how was beyond him, but he continued to stare at the back of his head until Max turned around and looked right at him.

"Hey, Neal!" it was a friendly hello, but he also sounded surprised to see him there. Then he noticed Andrea next to him and he quickly spun around to face the game.

"Alright, the first one to make it to the finish wins!" the announcer unlocked the games and all of the men quickly raced to be the first ones done. Neal concentrated down at the game, never once looking up at Andrea, and just when it looked he was about to be crowned champion, the buzzer sounded and the announcer joyfully called, "We've got a winner!" he grabbed none other than Max's arm and raised it high in the air, like it were a boxing match.

As Max picked out his prize, Neal turned away in disgust. He couldn't even win a game. What was up with him lately?  
"You'll win next time." Andrea patted him on the shoulder but for Neal sympathy was worse than losing itself.

"Hey, guys," Max walked over, a small, stuffed Dalmatian in his hand.

"Hi Max!" Andrea smiled wide, and her voice was loud, it sounded…happy.

_Why is she happier around Max than me? _

"So, uh, I don't really need this." He put it gently into Andrea's hands. "You can have it."

"Really?" Andrea asked gratefully. "Thank you!"

"So, uh, where were you today?" Neal cut in, trying to remind Max that this was _his _girlfriend. "I didn't see you at school."

Max hesitated. Clearly he didn't want to say and that made Neal even more suspicious.  
"I, uh, had a doctor's appointment."

_Liar. _

"Do you want to hang out with us?" Andrea asked. "I mean, it just looks like you're alone."

Max laughed nervously. "It looks that way, doesn't it?" he then turned to Neal, and judging by his expression, he decided to leave. "But, uh, I'll see you guys around, alright?"  
Andrea's smile slipped back into the half-grimace she was wearing when it had just been her and Neal.

Max waved before disappearing into the crowd.

For the rest of the night, Neal won five games, and every time he presented his award to Andrea with a flourish, and with the pride only a boyfriend could have beating fathers at the basketball toss, Andrea accepted them, just as gratefully, but he noticed that she held the stuffed Dalmatian tighter than all the others, like she couldn't possibly let go of it if she tried.


	14. Everybody Loves Me

**A/N: Okay, so major major MAJOR thank you to Bob the Robot for all of his great ideas - plus he mostly came up with this idea and without him, this story would probably not make any sense. Kudos!**

**Also, I've been listening to Sick Puppies lately. Maybe check them out sometime? **

_"Oh my, feels just like I don't try, look so good I might die , all I know is everybody loves me" - Everybody Loves Me, by OneRepublic _

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**Same Day, 9:45PM**

Max could tell Neal was upset.

The carnival had definitely _not _been his idea. His sister, Sarah, had gotten a case of "senioritis" as his mother preferred to call it, and insisted they "get some steam off" by going to the carnival.

As soon as they had gotten there, Sarah ditched Max and had him walk off alone, which kind of reminded him of _Taken, _in a weird, not-related way.

He'd walked around, sampled some foods here and there – by the way, _purple, _yes, _purple, _cotton candy does not taste _anything _like original – and then when he had glimpsed Andrea, well, it was pointless to try and stop himself from walking over to where she was.

By the time he weaved his way through the crowd and got over to the pinball game, he could see Neal was there too, looking angry about something and sitting down on one of the leather seats.

Well, why not? Max himself sat down and looked up ahead at the stuffed animals. Why anyone ever bothered to waste so much money on a toy that would undoubtedly fall apart by the next day, was beyond him. But if Andrea was here, then he would be too.

Finally, he couldn't take it any longer, and glanced back where Andrea was standing by Neal.

Instead of seeing her, though, Neal was looking straight at him, with a look that, personally, Max assumed might kill him if he had that sort of power. _Power _reminded him of what he no longer had at this point and he quickly shoved his right hand in his pocket quickly, as if somehow embarrassed by this.

"Hey, Neal!" he managed to put a happy smile on his face and wave like he was surprised to see them both there, even though he'd basically tracked Andrea down just to look at her once. What was that expression people used? Oh yes. Forbidden fruit.

One more look at Andrea and then he quickly spun back around in his chair.

Why was Neal giving him that look? Wasn't it just a few days ago that they had made plans for laser tag with Adam? Honestly, dealing with Neal's emotions was like trying to be friends with a bipolar person. Up one minute, down the next.

"Alright, the first one to make it to the finish wins!" the announcer called, and before Max could hit the buttons on the sides of the game in front of him, he realized he had already been doing that, before the thing was even unlocked, and now he was nearly finished while everyone around him was still at the very beginning.

As he followed the pinball with his eyes, going back and forth, back and forth, it made him think of something else: his parents. Unfortunately, they didn't look like they were getting along lately, and he knew "curing" Sarah's senioritis wasn't the only reason why his mom had made him leave the house.

Before he could think much on that, a loud booming voice was heard and his arm was jerked upwards. "We've got a winner!"

Disappointed, the others wandered off, some staying to try again. Max hastily picked out a stuffed Dalmatian dog and then he walked over to where Neal and Andrea were.

"Hey, guys," he tried his best to sound cheerful.

"Hi Max!" Andrea smiled widely at him, and Max quickly glanced at Neal, waiting for it.

"So, uh, I don't really need this." Max was careful to set it into Andrea's hands, which were already open, as if she'd been expecting him to give her the toy, "You can have it."

"Really? Thank you!" the wide grin on Andrea's face made him blush.

"So, uh, where were you today? I didn't see you at school." Neal kept his voice sharp, and Max could detect he obviously did not want him there.

"I, uh, had a doctor's appointment." Max lied. So he'd skipped school and hung around at Best Buy, sorting through the boxes of five-dollar DVDs, so what? It wasn't his fault that somehow his power had disappeared and rendered him useless.

"Do you want to hang out with us?" the question, pitched by Andrea, made his heart leap, but with another quick glance at Neal, he knew the idea was a no-go. "I mean, it just looks like you're alone."

_You're right about that one… _

Instead he forced out a laugh and said, "It looks that way, doesn't it?" He turned to Neal, almost debating if maybe he _should _stay, after all, but his glare made him say, "But, uh, I'll see you guys around, alright?" Quickly he turned around and walked towards a cotton candy booth as a distraction, hoping to not look back.

* * *

**Wednesday, October 14****th****, 8:57am **

Andrea knew she was late to school when she woke up, glanced at her alarm clock, and realized it was 7:30. She should have jumped up, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door, _something. _But no, instead, she laid there, hands folded behind her head, smiling. Yesterday had hardly been peaceful, but running into Max had left her eerily calm. She wasn't even worried about missing most of her global class, the one class she could fully concentrate on, with the best of her – pun not intended – ability.

Finally, she slipped out of bed, stepped into her slippers that she kept by the foot of her bed, and walked into the kitchen. Her father had already left for work and her brother for school so she walked to the radio, switched it on to top volume, and then back into her bedroom.

As she did her usual morning routine (brushing her hair, washing her face, and pulling on yet another hoodie from the infamous pile in the corner of the room that she had swore to her dad she would pick up one of these days) she thought about how she could get Max to open up with her.

He didn't seem to be very expressive, at all. Reflecting back on the few weeks she and Neal had been dating, she realized Max had usually been around, and during all those times, never once had he bothered to speak.

Which brought her back to the theory she had thought of weeks ago, and, well, what everyone says about those who do wrong, "it's always the quiet ones".

After all, she had been quiet when _she _discovered her ability:

It was seventh grade and – predictably – it was not easy trying to fit in, for two reasons, both of which, more or less, were connected with each other.

To be honest – most of the girls in her entire class despised her, absolutely hated her. And it wasn't exaggerating.

Andrea Portland had an ability that made guys like her.

No, actually, _like _was an understatement. A massive one; guys didn't just _like _her, they fell, head over heels, crazy in love with her, at any given time of day, didn't matter when or where or what she looked like that day. (And it had been an experiment at one point: dressing like a lunatic to throw them off, but of course that hadn't worked).

Literally, every guy fell in love with her. It didn't matter how devoted the guy was to his girlfriend, every single guy fell in love with her. Even guys who shouldn't have been falling in love with her, like much older men that could have passed for her father, or even family members – which kind of creeped her out and made her never want to attend family functions again.

All of that tipped her off that something was wrong; something was definitely different about her.

At first finding out what this _thing _was that was making men fall in love her, was not easy. She did research; she spent long hours looking things up in books, but nothing made sense to her, until she met Emma, a girl the same age as her, blind, but with the knowledge to detect abilities, with her own: using it to perceive sound waves in the world around her, which led her to "see" the pheromone Andrea gave off.

Once they found out they were both special, they confided in each other and tested their abilities, until, soon, Andrea was able to control the release of the pheromone.

The problem was that once she had feelings for another person, it was hard to control.

Make that ten times harder.

So every guy she ever liked also fell in love with her, but she was never sure if it was because they truly loved her or it was because of her "gift".

Which, when you got back to what she'd been _originally _thinking, was kinda difficult, trying to decide if Neal, or rather, Max, truly liked her for _her_.

* * *

**So I probably won't update for a while so I thought I'd add this little bit, to keep all of you who hopefully are still out there reading, and if not then that's okay, but if you are, leaving a review would be very, very, nice! :)**


	15. Exposed

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." ~Oscar Wilde, _De Profundis_, 1905

* * *

**7:45AM, Wednesday, October 14****th, **

Max had a feeling that today was _the _day. Today was the day he would tell Andrea about his powers. Or, well, lack thereof.

As corny, cheesy, and clichéd that it was to say, he had this _feeling _about her that he'd never felt about anyone else before.

And to not tell about his powers to the girl whom he'd come to know – and quite possibly – love, well, it would just be wrong.

So as he walked through the double doors of Santa Barbra High School, a smile on his face and a bounce in his step, he was _not _anticipating what happened next.

A blow to the face was the first thing – and not very gentle, which is, of course, the feeling you get when someone punches you.

Neal stood in front of him, an angry look on his face that Max had never seen before.

"What the hell, man?" he asked, rubbing his sore jaw.

"You should know!" Neal sniveled. "She broke up with me! This morning. On the _phone_."

"Who?" Max asked, knowing full well who.

"Andrea!" Neal practically spat her name. "That's who! She told me she likes someone else!" then his eyes narrowed. "Any idea who that _someone else _might be?"

"Well, if we take my now-bruising jaw into account, I'd say you're assuming that it's me," Max shot back.

"Isn't it?" Neal demanded. A few students were beginning to stop and stare at the fight; some were even egging Neal on, wanting another punch.

"No idea. Don't you think the term 'innocent until proven guilty' applies here?" Max hissed.

"We're not in court. I can do anything I want!" Neal raised his arm, ready for another punch, and Max closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself for the impact. Before anything could happen, he found himself wishing for something, anything, to distract Neal from getting any angrier, when all of a sudden, thunder sounded overhead with a loud, booming crack. Through the windows in the main hall, light flashed. Within seconds rain was pouring down on the sidewalks outside and the lights in the school went out.

"What's going on?" Neal lowered his fist and glanced up and down the darkened hall.

Within moments the lights flickered back on and an angry substitute home ec teacher stood in front of the crowd of students. "Move, move!" she demanded. Her eyes landed on Neal, whose fist was still clenched, but now down by his waist. "Something going on down here, gentlemen?"

"No." Neal and Max chorused. Each gave the other a glare before turning in opposite directions down the hallway.

While Neal was plotting other ways of revenge, Max couldn't help but stop mid-walk through the hallway, look down at his hand, and wonder, _did I do that?_

**10:30AM**

"Did you hear?"

"Max Perwitz and Neal Potts!"

"When?"

"This morning, when the power went out!"

Andrea followed the girls walking in front of her, all the way to the library, catching every word of their conversation. The only reason she even paid it any attention was because Max's name had come up.

Apparently Neal had punched him in the face because of what she had said to him that morning. That she wanted to break up with him because she liked someone else. Now that she realized her actions had caused the fight, she gasped. Was Max okay? How did Neal know it was Max that she liked? Was it really that obvious? Quickly, she went in the opposite direction and began searching through the crowds for Max.

After bumping into – and apologizing to – a blonde custodian clad completely in snow gear, she spotted Max talking to a teacher she knew was Mr. Keefe.

"Max! Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, giving him a complete once-over. He looked alright if you just kinda squint your eyes and maybe tilt your head and – oh who was she kidding? He looked awful; his lip was split and a nasty bruise was blooming along his jaw.

_Terrific. All your fault. A nice big reminder on his face. _

"Yeah…?" Max looked at her in confusion, like he hadn't noticed his own face. He nodded to Mr. Keefe, who quickly departed. "But uh, there's something I gotta tell you," he began.

Andrea held up her hand. "Wait. Tell me what happened first. I mean…you don't look…"

Max shook his head. "Neal just had to get it out of his system."

"Max, don't make excuses for him!" Andrea shouted. "You need to report him or something!"

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, calm down. I'm fine, alright?"

"No you're not!" Andrea could feel her voice escalate. "This is all my fault. I need to go talk to Neal." She turned around, ready to do just that, when Max grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her into an empty computer lab. He quickly slammed the door shut and blurted, "I'''."

Andrea raised her eyebrows. "Slowly, please?"

Max inhaled a deep breath and then repeated. "I've wanted to tell to tell you for a long time…I have powers. To control the weather. I don't know how. They were gone for a while and then this morning before Neal punched me again I…I guess I made the power go out. So they're back. I guess all I needed for them to work again was to panic." He let out a shaky laugh.

Andrea's eyes widened. _So I was right. _"I…I…I have to go." And she ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.


	16. A fabrication, a lie

**A/N: Okay, so finally we're going to get into the story! Updates are kinda random because, just like the rest of you, I have no idea where this story is going. **

**Also, random fact for all you out there: I write little mini-stories for my friends, who are, if I'm going to put it nicely, eccentric. We think of the most random things and I usually write a short story about it and give it to them three or four days later. Anyways, my friend Kelsi and I came up with this story about a watch that could reset lives. As in, spin the dial and go back five minutes, twenty minutes, three hours, back in time. And then my friend Austin made this point about time just being an illusion and I just thought that was such a perfect quote. So a box of Mars Bars to him, and on with the story ! :) **

* * *

_"Time is just an illusion." - my eccentrically unique friend, Austin _

**10:36AM **

Max stood in the empty classroom, astounded. Wasn't it only seconds ago that he had had this amazing feeling – well, aside from the bruise on his jaw, curtsey of one Neal Potts – that Andrea would completely accept and understand his powers? Mere minutes ago that the decision would not be regretted?

Too late.

Max could feel his emotions crashing into each other: panic, for seeing Andrea just walk out of the room and not stop her, fear, because Andrea could just run off and tell the first person she saw that Max was insane, disappointment, that that had not gone the way he had hoped, and finally, disgust, with Neal, who had attempted to solve his problems by punching Max in the face. After countless weeks of being his best friend, Max could now see him for who he really was. Arrogant, self-loathing, aggressive.

_Wow…It's like I'm in a Lie to Me episode. _

After five minutes of standing there motionless, he opened the door and walked out. The bell had rung what seemed like ages ago. For the first time in his life, Max felt like skipping class. His parents had raised him under strict rules and one of those was to never ignore schoolwork, but if he could see them right now, all he wanted to do was flip them the bird. Andrea Portland, near love of his life, had just walked away from him after he'd told her his most important secret. As far as he was concerned, nothing else mattered now.

He dragged himself to the lunch room, where the first round of students were crowded around clusters of tables. Fortunately, no lunch aides had arrived yet for their shift and he found the nearest table, next to the window, and sank his head down in his arms.

_What do I do? _The thought echoed in his mind while he scrolled through the possibilities of what may happen to him.

Andrea would tell everyone in the school and then he would be another social pariah, forced to the back of the bus, developing cystic acne and listening to mopey songs from his Nickelback days.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

Andrea would avoid him the rest of her life and he would never get to hear her voice again.

Andrea would somehow get in contact with his parents and then they would make him see a therapist and go on Zoloft.

People would believe Andrea, force Max to display his powers and then he would be discovered by a psychotic group of circus people who would abduct him and force him to put on shows for two bucks a pop.

The CIA would hear about him and turn him into a super spy that took down assassins with the changing of the weather

Okay, the last one was pretty stupid, yeah. But definitely not as bad as options one and four.

"Hey, Max."

Max lifted his head and found himself staring into the green eyes that belonged to Adam Kenyon. Adam Kenyon, who he had seen _Unstoppable _with. Oh, and his ironic girlfriend, Eva, had been there.

_I mean, come on. Adam and Eva. Sheesh, they're practically a walking bible story waiting to happen._

"Adam." Max said, as if he were unsure that was his actual name.

"Yeah…?" Adam smiled in amusement. "Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you had lunch like two bells from now." A slight raise of his eyebrows and Max knew instantly what he was thinking: how could a do-good kid like Max skip class and not even care? Weren't kids like him supposed to cry if they got an A minus on a test?

"I do." Max slid back in his seat and raised his feet up to the surface of the table, daring Adam to challenge him.

After a beat, Adam hesitated, then said, "So was that fight a real thing? Or is the rumor mill wrong this time?"

Max laughed. "They are unfortunately right, Adam. Can you not tell?" he looked to his left, letting Adam see the full extent of the bruise on his face.

"Ooh." Adam leaned closer, inspecting. "This is all from one punch?"

Max nodded. "A surprise attack, really. I was just walking in when he did it."

"Upset about Andrea," Adam filled in. "I heard that too. Apparently she's madly in love with you or something."

"Really?" Max couldn't help the way he asked, full of hope.

Adam nodded, a confirmation. "So did you manage to get a few punches in? Or was it just Neal?"

The eager look on his face made Max laugh again. "Just call me a pacifist."

"Call me an atheist." Adam clearly did not understand what a pacifist was, so Max continued on, ignoring that last comment: "Besides all that rumor stuff…how are you and Eva?"

"Oh. Eva."

"Broke up?"

"Nothing can last forever, Perwitz."

"Or can it?" Max countered. "Come on. What really happened?"

Adam exhaled heavily like carrying around the information was beginning to take its toll. "It was about two weeks ago."

_Two weeks ago…_two weeks ago Max had been living the good life. Now look at him: punched in the face, rejected, and skipping class.

"I thought everything was going okay," Adam lamented. "Then all of a sudden she tells me she wants someone who understands her better. Can you believe that?"

Max held back a response. Truthfully, it was no surprise that Adam didn't exactly "connect" with Eva. He was no Neal Potts, but of course he was still a guy, and not as good at communicating as Eva probably would have liked. "No, I can't." he said finally, because that's what you do.

"Enough about that," Adam dismissed. "Are you going to go out with Andrea or what?"

Inwardly, Max rolled his eyes. It always amazed him that Adam thought things could be done so simply, without a care in the world. "I have no idea." He shrugged. "We're not exactly on speaking terms right now."

"Oh." Adam nodded.

For a moment, Max realized something. If he didn't want to go into stage one of his plan, he would need a friend to keep him grounded. Adam seemed alright.

"So aren't we supposed to go to laser tag this weekend?" he asked.

Adam smacked the table. "Oh yeah! I forgot! Are we still going to go if Neal isn't, though? I mean, we already reserved him a spot and everything."

"Uh…you really think that's a good idea?" the question was rhetorical, and should have been pretty obvious, but Adam said, "Yeah, I do. Maybe you guys would get steam off or something."

"Or something." Max muttered.

"So this weekend?"

"Whatever."

**11:24AM**

"Alright everybody, I want you to read chapters two through four tonight-" Andrea's biology teacher, John Rothrock, was cut off by the ringing of the bell. None of the students but Andrea stayed, instead leaving crumpled tests, half-empty water bottles, and candy wrappers in their wake.

Once they were all gone, John looked up from his lesson plans with a sigh, meeting Andrea's eye.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked, his voice taking on a snide tone.

"Oh! Sorry!" Andrea blushed and quickly shoved her textbook in her bag before running out of the room.

As she walked to the cafeteria, she thought about earlier.

Max had confessed to her the one thing she had been absolutely sure that was true about him, and instead of confessing back that she, too, had a power no one else would understand, she had fled like an insecure baby. One who couldn't handle listening to the truth.

It kept running through her mind, the way he had blurted out what he'd been trying to say so fast, the nervous anticipation finally coming out through words, words Andrea knew must have been hard for him to say aloud.

Why couldn't she tell him? Why couldn't she just accept the fact that other people were out there too, ones who understood her?

_I can't lose him too. _

How could she be sure? How would she know if Max truly liked her? There was no way to know. There never would be.

As if fate intended it, she smacked right into Max, who was speed-walking down the hallway, in the opposite direction. For a moment, she lost her breath and just stared up at him. His wavy brown hair was mussed in all different directions and Andrea thought, _I bet he had his head down on his desk. _

He probably looked cute sleeping.

His blue eyes softened at the sight of her and they both tried to speak at the same time:

"I really should tell you…"

"I think that maybe I shouldn't have…"

Andrea blushed. "Uh, you go first." She didn't want to admit that she, too, had a power, not right here in the hallway of her high school, where prying eyes were watching and nosy ears were listening.

Max nervously looked to his right, where the biology room's door was open. Mr. Rothrock had left for his lunch break and before Andrea knew what Max was doing he gently pulled her arm and they were inside the room. He slammed the door and then looked at her sadly.

"You don't want to be around me anymore, do you? Is it because of what I said? Because, Andrea, I am _not _joking. This is a serious thing and I haven't told anyone but you."

Andrea felt the pinprick feeling she always got in the back of her eyes whenever she was about to cry. "Max…I…I like you, too. A lot. More than you know." At least that was easy to get out, unlike the fact that her power made guys fall in love with her. How embarrassing would that be? He probably wouldn't believe a word. Or, if luck was on her side for one second of her life, he'd probably get pissed and realize all this time the feelings he had been having were nothing but a fabrication, a lie.

"I wouldn't care if your skin was green," I continue, hoping this will be enough for him. "I think that…well, I really should tell you…"

Max's lip twitches, hinting at a smile. "Yes?"

"I think what you said…well…I think it's pretty awesome." I whisper, and, in that moment, I completely forget what else I am supposed to say, how I have powers too, how I understand him completely, how I wish being more than friends wasn't so friggen complicated, because Max grabs me and kisses me, cradling my face in his hands, touching me gently. I put my hands around his hips and lose myself in the moment.

* * *

**So if any of you are out there, being ghosts and reading this story, I appreciate reviews :) or, uh, maybe an idea for what's going to happen next? That would be good. **


	17. Ain't That a Bitch?

"Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go." - e.e. cummings

* * *

_Three Weeks Later… _

Neal Potts had been having a helluva month.

First off – he meets Max Perwitz. An intelligent, somewhat-of-a-cynic-guy, comes to Santa Barbra. Helps him out with his earth science lab, and suddenly they're friends. Not _Superbad _friends, but maybe _Die Hard _friends? Neal did always want to be John McClane.

Then Max meets Andrea Portland, the most cool, funny, sarcastically witty girl _Neal _has ever laid eyes on. An opportunity strikes – Andrea is open game, suddenly, and then before he can recall what has happened, Neal was holding Andrea's hand and walking her to class and kissing her in the school store.

But _then…_Neal rolled his eyes, remembering Max's pathetic little _you can date whoever you want, Neal, _speech. Obviously Max wanted Andrea, but could he help it if Max had simply never made a move? Wasn't it written somewhere that if there was no action taken, the girl was free game? It had to be written somewhere. After all, it wasn't _illegal, _for god's sake, to date a girl.

Neal would know.

It seemed like Max had tainted the good-mood vibe between Neal and Andrea because the next thing he knew, Andrea was being distant and weird, not texting him back and shrugging him off when he asked what was bothering her.

It wasn't like a _huge _surprise; Andrea rarely talked at all, which Neal found to be a great quality in a girl because he had dated a _lot _of stereotypically blonde, vapid, Santa-Barbra girls, and damn, did they talk.

And okay, Neal was a big talker. He talked about his friends – 678 on facebook, thank you very much – he talked about ESPN (which, surprisingly, Andrea was actually interested in) and he talked about the Artemis Fowl book series entirely too much. But he always left room for Andrea.

So Neal and Andrea had gone on a few more awkward dates – dinner at Applebee's with Neal's parents, strolling around the mall, hand in hand, going to the one cool coffee shop, Coffee Bean, in Santa Barbra, and watching funny videos on YouTube for two hours – with Neal crossing his fingers every time. Because, fact of the matter was, he _hated _to break up.

Sure, he had had countless girlfriends before, and quite a few times _they _had broken up with _him _– not that he ever let that get around school – but he didn't want to be the one to break it to Andrea that things weren't working out. In fact, he _wanted _things to work out. Andrea was so…_unique. _

Admittedly, he wasn't the best boyfriend out there, either. He had faults. Ever since his break-up with Andrea, he'd begun a mental chart: he flirted with lots of other girls, even when his girlfriend was standing right there, he had an addiction to Snapple (which wasn't really a factor of being a bad boyfriend, he just wanted to get that out there in his mind), he paid more attention on _Call of Duty _sometimes than his girlfriend, feelings were hard to access, and most times, if he were saddled with an incessantly crying girlfriend, he would dump her, and, most of all, he could not talk about his family.

In his mind's eye, family was probably the most important thing out there. Well, it was on the list of important things, along with his Xbox Kinect. And if he couldn't talk about family, that was a problem. Wasn't it also written in the proverbial book that if you were serious about a girl, you had to introduce her to the family? There were probably a million and one reasons why he couldn't do that.

First off, the touchiest subject about his family was his father.

So finally, when they had went to the carnival, Neal knew that day would be "the straw that broke the camel's back" (words of his mother) because Andrea was a great girl, plain and simple, but he needed to work on him before he could handle a relationship.

Maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise when Andrea dumped him. Neal had _wanted _her to – subconsciously, anyways – but still, when he had heard her say, "I like someone else," it made him angry.

The only thing running through his mind at that point was how to get back at Max Perwitz, for taking away his…love.

Whoa.

He did _not _just think that.

He couldn't possibly _love _someone. Neal Potts did not _love _girls. He kissed them, gave the occasional lucky one a necklace, and, more often than not, got to, uh, go past second base with them, but _love? _

Ugh.

Crap.

_Love. _

After all of that, Neal now stood in the middle of the school's library; dumbly clutching to what was practically a child's security blanket to him, the fourth installment of the Artemis Fowl series, The Opal Deception.

Deception, indeed.

"Hey, Neal!" Adam waved, from the line of computers.

Neal sneered. He and Max may not have talked for three weeks, but apparently that didn't stop Max. Adam was practically his best friend now. Neal saw them everywhere together, Andrea tagging along too. It was practically a stab right through his back.

_Rrrrinnng! _

Adam was still staring at Neal as they exited the library, and Neal made his way to earth science.

He passed Casey Keefe, a teacher Neal generally liked, but he didn't even glance his way.

_Guess you've taken Max's side too, huh? _

Once he sat down at his desk and pulled out the homework, Neal couldn't help it; he looked over to his right, where he knew Max would be.

Max did not even notice (thankfully); too busy scribbling something down in a notebook. He looked well-rested, relaxed, wearing a simple plaid shirt and jeans.

Neal envied him.

Quickly, he turned back around to face the board and kept his eyes on their _other _new teacher: Mr. Rossi.

"Alright!" the overly-enthused substitute clapped his hands together. "We're covering _phases of the moon _today, folks! Isn't it great? The moon is a marveling thing."

"Oh, yeah, it's pretty astounding," Neal mumbled into his hoodie.

"I want you all to work with a partner-" Mr. Rossi stopped himself, holding up his hand. "But I will be choosing who with. Who knows, maybe you'll all have a new friend by the end of the bell."

Neal grimaced.

As Mr. Rossi moved up and down the aisles, picking and choosing, Neal cast a sidelong glance at Max again. He was too busy texting to pay Neal any attention, which was good.

"You!" Mr. Rossi pointed a finger in Neal's line of vision. "You're with…" his eyes scanned over the room, seeing only Max was left. "That young man over there! Enjoy! Collaborate! Spring ideas! Marvel at the world!"

_Smoke some crack…_

Neal grudgingly got up from his chair and walked over to Max, who was waiting for him, pencil in his hand.

"So…I guess we're partners," Neal said.

"I guess so." Max nodded. His expression softened for a moment. "Hey man, I know there's some weird stuff between us, but I want to fix it. I know you're still upset about Andrea-"

"Why would I be upset about Andrea?"

"-and I want us to be friends ago. Good friends. We haven't talked in a while; we should catch up. Maybe see a new movie or talk about the new album The Black Keys made. It's pretty good."

Neal didn't smile, even though The Black Keys were his all-time favorite band. Max wasn't about to bribe him back into a friendship. No way was he falling for that.

"Neal…talk to me," Max prompted. "Why are you so upset?"

Neal had been waiting so long to retort back to a question like that, he was glad to finally say, "I'm upset with you because you stole my girlfriend. That's why I'm so friggen upset with you, Max, because you are so _oblivious _to my feelings!"

Max's smile didn't waver. "_I'm _oblivious to _your _feelings? You went out with Andrea, even when I _told _you I liked her! You went against the code, bro."

"_Bro," _Neal said derisively, "there is no code. You shied away, which made Andrea totally open."

"Open?" Max asked in disbelief. "Did you even value the time you spent with her? You may be upset with me, but you don't sound even remotely upset that you're not with Andrea anymore. What I think is, you got jealous and all pissed, decided to haul off and slug me, and then sat around stewing. It's time to get over it and yourself, Neal." Max stood up, packet in his hand, and grabbed his backpack off the floor.

Neal stared down at his desk.

_For once, you're absolutely speechless, Neal. _

_Ain't that a bitch? _


	18. Breakfast of Champions

A/N: Okay guys, I know this is a short chapter but after this there are only two left until the end! Ahh! :D

* * *

There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction - Winston Churchill

**November 15****th****, Saturday, 12:12PM **

_So either I'm going crazy, or my dad is actually sitting down at the kitchen table, with my brother._

Andrea paused in the entryway to the kitchen, observing.

The sight certainly surprised her, to say the least. The last time she had seen her brother, Rob, with her father, Eric, at the kitchen table together, was literally years ago. Why the sudden change in routine?

Finally, though, Andrea couldn't handle waiting, so she strode into the kitchen casually. "Hey, guys," she said smoothly, and sat down. Eric wore his usual suit-and-tie combo, but the tie was loosened and his black hair wasn't gelled like it normally was.

"Good morning, Andrea!" Eric chirped cheerfully, sliding something over to her on a napkin.

Andrea looked down disdainfully. "Cupcakes?" the large, chocolate, strawberry-frosted creation made her mouth water but since when did her dad allow cupcakes at all in the house, let alone for _breakfast_?

"Yeah!" Eric punched his fist into the air exuberantly. "Breakfast of champions! Am I right?" he lifted his palm to Rob's, and he gladly smacked it, laughing.

Picking hesitantly at her chocolate cupcake, Andrea mumbled, "So, uh, dad…"

Eric was busy licking frosting off his forearm – how had _that _happened? – As he said, "Yeah, Bug?"  
Instantly, the nervous feeling in her stomach was gone. Her dad hadn't called her Bug in years. As cheesy as it was, Andrea felt herself tearing up and she shoved a handful of cupcake crumbs in her mouth to avoid speaking.

"Anyways," Rob dismissed Andrea's attempt at starting a conversation. "Guess what we played in gym yesterday, dad?"

Eric put an overly-enthusiastic grin on his face, humoring his son. "I have no idea! What?"

"Ultimate Frisbee!" Rob exclaimed. "I scored _three _goals!"

Andrea shoved more cupcake crumbs in her mouth.

"Really? Three? You must have kicked some-!" Eric caught himself. "Butt."

"I did! You should have seen it!" Rob leaned back in his chair, unwrapping the cellophane on his vanilla cupcake. "It was like I was famous or somethin'."

"I was pretty famous for my epic dodge ball skills," Eric reminisced. ""Course _back in the day _we played backyard stuff. Tag, hide-and-go-seek…dodge ball."

Andrea wasn't sure which was more baffling: her dad using the word epic in a sentence or proclaiming he was actually good at a sport.

"Dodge ball's alright," Rob dismissed. "But ultimate Frisbee, man, that's a sport. Michael Phelps plays it!"

Andrea had chewed enough to say, in a slightly garbled voice, "Michael Phelps is an Olympic swimmer, Rob."

"I've heard it both ways."

"What?"

"Children, children." Eric held up his hands. Andrea shot him a glare and he quickly amended, "Teenagers, excuse me. I have something to discuss with the both of you."

"You're taking us to Disney World?" Rob started bouncing up and down in his chair.

"Hardly." Andrea snorted.

Eric absentmindedly began playing with his napkin. "Well, we are going _somewhere. _Just not Disney World."

"Marine World?" Rob asked, slightly less hopeful this time.

"SeaWorld!" Andrea added, more for Rob's benefit than her own. She could tell this was a serious topic because Eric had shelled out the money for sugar, which meant either someone had died or they were having their power shut off again.

"Darien Lake?"

"Hershey Park?"

"Busch Gardens?"

Now Andrea and Rob were just doing it to annoy each other.

"Alright, alright, I surrender!" Eric held up his napkin and waved it; a white flag.

"Seriously though, dad. Where are we going?" Andrea asked.

Eric sighed heavily, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling. He did that whenever he couldn't look her in the eyes, Andrea mused. "Well guys, I've got some bad news."  
"Bad news?" Andrea repeated.

"Yes." Eric nodded, finally looking back down at his son and daughter. "The bad news is…well…"

"What?" Andrea asked.

Eric rubbed his temples, as if it pained him to say what he did next:

"We're moving."


	19. Read It and Weep

A/N: Ahh! Only one more chapter after this!

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* * *

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Reality is merely an illusion, although a very persistent one - Albert Einstein

**November 17****th****, Monday, 7:07AM**

Andrea _still _couldn't believe it.

She was _moving. _Moving, as in _away from Santa Barbra. _As in, _away from Max. _As in, _leaving everything behind. _

Eric had explained to her and Rob that he had been "laid off" – read: fired – from his job and that now he couldn't afford the bills getting sent to their house so they would have to leave the _state. _

Not their house or the city, but the _state. _

To _North Carolina. _

It was ridiculous! She had so many things here that she couldn't leave behind: her school – an actually challenging curriculum – her friends – good senses of humor, great taste in music – and Max – an amazing, perfect guy who had confided in her about the strange things happening to him.

Thinking of leaving Max made Andrea's stomach clench in nervousness. She still hadn't told him that she had an ability too, and it had been weeks. Surely she could have rehearsed something like "So guess what Max? I have a power just like yours except mine makes all guys I meet fall in love with me!"

As if.

She had managed to avoid him the whole weekend but now that they were in school she was bound to see him – duh, hence the name boyfriend – and she was literally shaking with the realization that she would have to tell him everything.

So now Andrea stood in the back of the school's library, in the mysteries section, staring ahead at nothing. Classes didn't start until seven thirty, so she had time to brood.

That is, until Neal Potts walked through the library doors, holding onto a stack of books.

Andrea eyed him suspiciously. He looked like hell; dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking out in all directions, slightly slowed walk. There was definitely a change in his demeanor.

_Great, another thing to feel terrible about. _

"Well, why not?" Andrea mumbled to herself. She might as well apologize to Neal now. Just as she began making her way over to him, he dropped the books he'd been holding.

This could work.

Andrea quickly bolted over to him and picked up the first thing she could: a novel titled, _Speak. _

How ironic.

"H-hey Neal," Andrea stammered, once Neal had picked up the remaining books. She gently put the one she had picked up onto his pile.

"Uh, hey." Neal maneuvered his way around her and set the pile down on a table. Clearly, he did not want to talk to her.

"I…" _What's wrong with me? _"I…"

"Andrea?" Neal turned around, surprised she was still standing there.

Instead of apologizing, Andrea blurted out, "My dad's going to make us move to North Carolina!"

Neal's hard expression faltered. "Oh…God. I'm sorry, Andrea."

And that's when Andrea burst into tears.

* * *

Max knew that checking out _Deadline _was a bad idea. Mr. Keefe had recommended it, and, as usual, the ending made Max tear up. What was with him and emotional endings? Was Mr. Keefe trying to tell him something? Did he know something that he didn't?

So, to get rid of the emotional feelings, Max was stopping by the school's library to ditch the book.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As he made the familiar trek down the halls and past the school store, he thought about the weekend. He'd tried to call Andrea for two days straight, but her phone had been off. For three straight weeks all they did was talk to each other. Was she avoiding him now? Max shook his head, confused, as he got to the library's entrance.

He pushed open the doors and walked to the main desk, glad that to be ridding himself of Ben Wolf and his terminal disease.

Except that when he turned around to grab a better book, preferably something with action for a change, he saw _it. _

_It _being Andrea and Neal.

Now, _Lost _was one of Max's favorite shows of all time – besides Fringe – and the thing he loved most about it was the flashbacks that offered you a glimpse in the character's previous lives, before they got stranded on that island.

Flashbacks, in this instance, were _not _good.

Instantly, it was like Max had been transported to that one day in the school store, when he had caught Neal and Andrea making out on the counter. Of course at that point Neal had had a Twix bar stuck to his ass. This time, he didn't.

At least Max could take some solace in that.

Finally, the two broke away, and Neal brushed something off Andrea's pale cheek with his thumb. Wait – was she crying? What happened?

How did they not even notice him standing there?

Why was Neal _touching _her? He wasn't allowed her to touch her! Not even Max would touch her! Well, other than hand holding. He was a gentleman! Neal wasn't! Andrea deserved better than that! _He _was what she needed!

Max couldn't move; he was numb, just staring at Andrea with cold eyes.

Like Andrea had felt the glare, she turned, and gasped. "Max!" Her blue eyes widened in both shock and disbelief. She held out her hand, as if he could feel her touch from the far away distance where Max stood.

Neal looked equally panic-stricken. "Hey, buddy; it's not what you think-!" He started after him, but Max wasn't having it. He wasn't going anywhere near him.

Max shook his head. "Save it." He turned around and ran, grateful that he finally could.


	20. These Are My Confessions

A/N: So the last chapter! Ahh! It's short, I know, but there is a sequel I will post! Thanks to all of you amazing reviewers (Bob the Robot, Emma Tpain)...you guys are the best!

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"Mind is everything: muscle - pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind."  
- Paavo Nurmi

**November 17****th****, Monday, 7:16AM **

"_My dad's going to make us move to North Carolina!" Andrea blurted, eyes threatening to brim over with tears._

"_Oh…God. I'm sorry, Andrea." Neal stepped back, as if to give her space. _

_And that's when Andrea burst into tears. _

"_Hey, hey…" Neal softened, moving forwards, towards Andrea. "Don't cry; it's alright." He slowly put his arms around her, apprehensively. _

_Andrea allowed his touch, resting her head on his chest, sobbing. "I don't want to move..and I was supposed to apol-apolgize to you because I hurt you. I didn't mean to, Neal! I really do like you and…"_

_Neal gently pulled her away, staring straight into her eyes. "You do?" _

"_Yes."_

_Before she knew it, Neal grabbed both sides of her face, gently kissing her. _

_Andrea, confused, kissed back._

"Max! Max!" Andrea pleaded, running to keep up with Max, who was ducking and weaving between people in the hallway. How was he getting away so fast?

"MAX!" the last shout must have done it because he finally turned around, nearly bowling over a short, redheaded girl in the process.

"Come here!" Andrea quickly grabbed Max's hand and pulled him into the same empty computer lab that _he _had pulled _her _into when he'd confessed.

Once they were both standing across from each other, completely alone, Andrea confessed.

"I'm so, so, _so _sorry!" Andrea began.

Max didn't even move a muscle.

Andrea sighed, exasperated. "Look, Max, I have a confession to make. I should have told you and I never did but I have a power, too."

Max raised his eyebrows, but the look of anger was still on his face.

"I…it's hard to explain. Guys just…fall in love with me. It's…a power thing…an ability; I don't know. It's been like this for so long I just…" Andrea faltered. "It happened with Neal. That's why I…I just…kissed him...And then me…we…"

Max shook his head in confusion. "So what you're telling me is that because somehow you have this _power, _so you and Neal were making out in the library?"

"I was telling him that I had to move!" Andrea blurted. "My dad told me on Saturday and that's why I didn't talk to you all weekend because I didn't want to have to tell you! I don't want to leave you!"

"You're _moving_?"  
"I-I-yes."

"So let me get this straight: guys fall in love with you. _That_'s your power?"

"Yes."

"All guys?"

"Yes."  
"Even _teachers_?"  
"Yes!"

_Well, that explains a few things. _

Then Max realized it. "Oh my God! Holy crap!" he slowly stepped backwards, fumbling for the door handle.

Andrea knew what he was thinking. "No, Max! It isn't like that!"

"All this time…it was just you, doing that." Max sounded horrified. "I don't really like you, do I?"

Andrea just stared at him, unable to speak.

"Goodbye, Andrea," Max turned away from her, opened the door, and slammed it shut.

* * *

What a _day. _

Max thought nothing would ever top the dropped-my-iTouch-in-a-mud-puddle-and-effectively-ruined-it bad day, but _this – _this _sucked_.

So, to clarify – Andrea confessed to him that she had a power to make guys fall in love with her. Thus, all of Max's feelings which he _thought _were real…were fake? All those times he'd hung out with her, she'd known and hadn't even felt…bad? The thought infuriated him. He'd just been strung along, like it was all some game for Andrea's amusement.

On top of all that, Andrea was _moving_. Forget about making up and maybe someday being _friends. _Soon she would be gone, forever.

Max shoved his textbooks back into his locker with a _clang. _He was going to go home, sink down into the couch, and drop out of school. Probably forever. He'd get "Uncle G" to home school him if he had to.

He closed shut his locker and made his way down the hall, avoiding the knowing glances people were giving him. They'd probably gotten wind of the incident and were trying to make themselves feel better by conveying fake sympathy.

As Max opened the double doors to the entrance of the high school, he spotted a flash of…fancy suits?

A man, with black hair and a woman with short, blonde hair. They were standing by the bike rack, right near Max's ten-speed. What were they doing here?

The woman suddenly approached him and Max instantly drew back. What was going on?  
The man joined the woman, holding up his badge. "Henry Lunse, FBI. Are you Max Perwitz?"

"Oh crap," Max whispered.


End file.
